


The Red Death

by McShipIt



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Bones, Bones Whump, Bones is not a Side-Bit, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Psychological Torture, Section 31, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 95,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McShipIt/pseuds/McShipIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary in simple words: Section 31 wants Leonard. Leonard wants Jim. And Jim, well, Jim wants people to stop taking what’s his.</p><p>Not so simple words: Leonard knows the serum he used to save Jim from death has the potential for Universal Armageddon, and he's not the only one. Starfleet Intelligence wants the formula, but Leonard's a stubborn man. He's not about to hand that power over to anyone, not even if he's being ordered to. Lost from the <i>Enterprise</i> and everyone he cares about, it's up to Leonard to stop the rogue agency known as Section 31 from destroying thousands of lives, and changing the galaxy forever.</p><p>Takes place between Jim's resurrection and the beginning of the 5 year mission at the end of STID. <br/>(My epic love song to Bones! A kickass character in his own right, and not to be shoved aside to be used for comic relief.)</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	1. =/1\=

Leonard McCoy ignored the pain in his knees, and his stiff back while he crouched on the wooden floor of his father's home. He didn’t want to give in to the notion he was getting old. Thirty-two was hardly something to complain about, then again, the things his body and soul had endured these past two years more than likely aged him well-beyond his sixty-four-year-old father.

He was a doctor, not a carpenter or a farmhand, or a damn butler, but since he’d been home in Georgia, his father saw fit to treat him like all of the above, and now after a week of physical labor, the demands he put on his body had reached its limit. Leonard's muscles were sore and tired. Not that he minded all that much. It kept him busy and his mind off the events leading up to moving back to the farm, and most importantly off the people—or person—he refused to let occupy his mind.

The sound of his hammering on the floorboards was replaced by a hammering on the old, farmhouse door. It should have been hard to hear over the steady drops of rain on the tin roof, but whoever was at the door was rather insistent.

“Len!” his father yelled from his office. “See to the door. I’m elbow deep in these payments.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, then grumbled under his breath about not being a damn house slave.

“Under my roof!” That seemed to be his father’s stock answer anytime Leonard griped about something. Leonard now lived under his roof, so he’d do whatever his father told him.

Yes, Leonard was definitely too old for this shit.

Removing the nails nestled between his lips, he waved an irritated hand over his shoulder as he rose to greet the shadow of the visitor standing on the porch.

Even soaking wet, Leonard recognized the shaggy blond hair through the frosted, front door window.

He didn’t hesitate to think what the consequences of the visitor's presence here in Georgia meant. Leonard should have stopped and ran for the back door so he could figure out what to say to the man who, for the past five years, had gradually nestled his way bone deep inside of him. But Leonard had already run away, and distance hadn’t helped him. So instead, he threw open the door and all but growled at James T. Kirk, the man who never seemed to give up.

“What in blazes hell are you doing—”

“You didn’t say goodbye.” Jim cut him off, fire in his eyes, and right fist clenched like he was about to slam it into Leonard’s jaw.

“Leonard, who is it?” yelled his father.

“I got it, Dad!" he said, competing with the old man. "Come on.” Leonard grabbed hold of Jim’s elbow, dragging him alongside the house to avoid the rain. When they reached the old shed and were out of earshot and out of sight, Leonard laid into Jim about his sudden appearance halfway across the country.

“You look like hell,” Leonard said. “You’re soaking wet. The last thing you need is to compromise your immune system.”

Jim wrenched his arm free of his grip, giving Leonard a two handed shove to his chest. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

_Yeah, kid, neither did you_ , Leonard thought but didn’t voice it.

“Jim—”

“No, Bones! I can’t believe you. I get discharged from the hospital by Boyce of all people, and then find out from _him_ you’ve left Starfleet.” Jim’s face flashed from anger to confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was steam coming off of Jim’s shoulders from his soaking wet shirt, and drops of water fell from his hair to his face. Leonard didn't need any instruments to tell Jim's pulse was elevated, and for someone who had just come back to the land of the living, a heart rapidly racing, pumping too much blood to newly regenerated cell tissues, wasn’t a good thing. He was liable to end up with pneumonia.

“Jim, you need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Bones! I hate that. I want an explanation.” He raised a finger in the air, hovering it in front of Leonard’s face. “I deserve an explanation. Maybe not as your captain, but at least your friend.”

“Who gave you the clearance to fly? You shouldn’t be traveling.” Leonard’s hands itched for his tricorder, or a hypospray at the least. “Your body’s not up to it, and if you tell me you transported here, so help me, I’ll—”

“Bones. Stop.” Jim ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. “Just stop.” He let his arm fall to his side surveying the shed, like he weighed Leonard’s actions by taking inventory. His eyes glanced from the hard-packed, dirt ground, to the tin and wood walls, then up to the exposed rafters where they eventually landed on a rusty scythe, weathered and destroyed by rain and age hanging from an exposed wooden beam. The shed was the only thing never upgraded over the years. It had been patched up and fixed when the storms came through, but the tools and the memories it held had been passed down from McCoy generation to generation. As a kid, the shed had been a terrifying mystery to Leonard and his cousins. It was the one place where they feared to tread, thinking it was haunted by the ghosts of McCoys past. With the sound of the rain pounding on the tin roof, and the air thick with humidity making it difficult to breathe, Leonard thought he might prefer to take his chances with the ghosts over an irrational Jim freshly back from the dead.

With his eyes still stuck on the scythe, Jim swallowed, fighting back whatever emotions had surfaced. “Why?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Leonard was in turmoil just as much as Jim, so he let Jim stew a bit longer before answering. “The fact you have to ask that, Jim, only makes it the right decision.” Leonard crossed his arms, hoping he was strong enough for this conversation. “You were dead, Jim. It doesn’t get any deader than dead.”

“Yet, here I am,” he whispered loud enough over the rain, turning to face him. “Thanks to you, Bones.”

Leonard’s surly facade faltered. His heart was fractured, trying to pump much needed blood, but the fissures left behind from Jim made it so damn difficult to work. If he ran a scan over himself, he’d see he was bleeding out throughout his chest cavity, and his only chance of surviving was to cut out the dysfunctional organ.

“I can’t do it anymore. Dammit, Jim! Two catastrophic events in two years. My ol’ bones can’t take another one.” It had nothing to do with his bones, but Leonard wasn’t about to let Jim in on that secret. “And with you, there’ll always be another one. That’s just who you are, and I wouldn’t have you change that. If a mission doesn't kill you, staying planetside surely would. But I’m tired.” Leonard raised his chin up, staring right into Jim’s weary eyes.

“So, what? You’re going to be a country doctor, raise some chickens, pick peaches in the orchard and take sweet tea on the porch at night?”

“I’d prefer a nice mint julep, myself.” Leonard tried a smile on Jim.

“You’re the best doctor Starfleet has ever seen. You’ll be bored in weeks, enough you’ll want to stab your eyeballs out.”

“Better self inflicted than some Klingon doing it for me.”

Jim shoved his hands in his hair, pulling at the roots. It had grown during the weeks spent in the hospital, and he hadn’t found time to cut it to regulation length. He wiped the droplets off his face, but managed to miss an important one resting on his upper lip. It hovered there, waiting to fall, taunting Leonard, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s lips.

“This isn’t a joke, Bones.”

“You’re goddamn right it’s not.” Perhaps he was more annoyed with himself than Jim.

“What’s wrong? Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me?”

“It’s my decision. My life,” Leonard growled, “and I don’t want to waste it gallivanting in space with some hyperactive, space-pirate with delusions of grandeur who has a death wish!”

Jim’s face fell, and Leonard regretted the words as soon as he said them.

“Wow,” Jim’s head snapped back, “so, that’s really what you think of me. All these years, Bones, and that’s how you sum me up.” He turned his back on Leonard, looking up to the scythe again.

Leonard hadn’t meant to crush Jim like that. For the past few months he’d been so frustrated with the man, it was impossible to have a normal conversation with him anymore. He’d changed ever since Nero and the Narada, like he had something to prove, driving everything and everyone around him right to the edge. He was barely holding on by his fingertips, and that included their friendship. It wasn’t always this way. Leonard used to enjoy the rush and adrenaline that embodied Jim Kirk, but then Khan happened, and after Pike’s death, Jim was unrecognizable with his anger, more reckless if that was possible.

Leonard understood what it meant to grieve. His marriage, his mother, his grandparents, it was a common thread in his life, but for Jim, he’d never cared enough about anyone to know what it felt like to grieve. Pike was the father figure he’d desperately been lacking in his life, and when Khan killed him, something in Jim reverted to a time before Leonard knew him. Leonard saw it happen right before his eyes. Jim pushed everyone—including Leonard—away, demanding things of his crew they never should have endured. It frightened Leonard, but more importantly, it broke his heart. He loved Jim, and Jim had taken their friendship and Leonard’s trust, and casually tossed it away all in the name of vengeance.

When Leonard brought Jim back from death’s firm hold, he finally faced the grueling truth of their relationship. He could never love someone who didn’t wish to be loved, or more importantly, someone who would never be able to return that love. It would eventually destroy Leonard far beyond any damage his ex-wife had ever done to him, and he would not survive it this time.

“Jim, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Not exactly.”

When Jim turned around, his eyes were moist, and his jaw was set. He nodded a few quick nods. “Enjoy your simple, country life, Dr. McCoy. Best of luck.”

He tried to brush past Leonard, but he stopped Jim with a firm grip on his arm. Leonard was stronger than him. Jim’s muscles hadn’t fully recovered from the tissue damage the radiation had done, but even after weeks of lying in a bed, Jim still gave off an energy that hummed through his body. The man trembled under Leonard's fingertips.

“I can’t let you leave like this,” Leonard said, even though he knew better. He should let Jim go and finally be done with it all. This goodbye was always going to be harder than Leonard could imagine. It was why he left San Francisco. James Kirk did something to Leonard McCoy he couldn’t explain, something he'd never felt. He turned Leonard’s world upside down, and Leonard was the kind of man who liked to be right side up. What the two of them had went beyond friendship. It went beyond any relationship Leonard had ever been in, at least Leonard thought so, but with Jim, it was too hard to tell.

Jim Kirk was a whirlwind of emotion, catastrophic in some regards. He was the eye of the storm for so many people, sharing bits of himself all over the galaxy, blowing in and leaving a path of heartbreak in his wake. Leonard knew damn well Jim was spread too thin to ever give himself fully to one person. Regardless of what his head told him, Leonard’s heart made him feel a godforsaken bond for Jim he didn’t know how to diagnose, and it annoyed the hell out of him.

When Jim died, that bond tore a piece from not just Leonard’s heart, but his soul, a piece which could never be replaced, and that scared the hell out of him.

“Let go. We’re done here,” Jim said, like it was that easy. His muscles were still tense under Leonard’s hands.

“Now hold on, Jim. You know I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I just never expected you to show up on my doorstep. I’m off kilter here.”

“How can you walk away like that?” Jim shook his head. “Has our friendship meant so little to you?”

_Friendship,_ Leonard thought, _yeah, that was the problem, wasn’t it?_ The cataclysm of emotion Leonard was experiencing was one sided.

“Fine, I get it,” Jim said. “As my _acquaintance_ , you don’t owe me anything, Bones, not even the courtesy of a goodbye, not if you don’t want to. But as a member of my crew, you left without so much as a by your leave. I am your captain!”

“Not anymore, Jim.”

Jim sought Leonard’s eyes, like he needed confirmation from Leonard’s expression to understand the validity of his statement.

“Bones, I need you.” Leonard’s heart fluttered, then went still again when Jim continued. “I need the best, and you’re the best there is. You make me a better captain. We had plans, Bones. To seek out the ends of the galaxy, find a distant planet no one has ever stood on before. There’s a whole universe out there meant for us, Bones. Don’t do this. Tell me what's wrong. Be like Spock, make me see the logic in this decision, because from where I’m standing, there is none.”

They were inches apart, and the look of anguish on Jim’s face was too much for Leonard. As a healer, he couldn’t bear to be the cause of so much pain.

“Jim...it’s not that simple.”

“It is! Bones, come with me. Follow me to the end of the galaxy.”

“You died chasing that dream.”

Jim took a step back from Leonard as if he’d hit him. “You’re right. I did die, but I didn’t give up, and neither did you or I wouldn’t be here. We defied death. So now we have to make sure to _live_. I’m alive.”

Leonard was all too aware how alive Jim was. The flush on Jim’s cheeks made the dark circles under his eyes a little less pronounced. Even at this distance he could feel the heat radiating off of Jim, and there was a fire in his eyes which held that strong will to survive, something Leonard thought he would never see again.

“You can’t stay in one place, Bones.”

“No, Jim, you can’t. I can be quite content.”

“You can’t quit. Who knows what’s out there? That’s what it’s all about. Seeking the mystery of the unknown around the corner, and I want you with me when I turn it.”

“Jim, I just can’t.”

“Tell me what you’re so damn afraid of! We all die sometime. It’s how you live that counts. You know who said that to me? Pike did. And he’s dead. A good man is dead, and I’m not going to waste his memory holed up in some desk job or some sleepy little Earth town because it’s the easy way out.”

“It’s got nothing to do with being afraid of dying, Jim.”

“Then tell me the truth. Make me understand.”

There was no good way to tell Jim the truth. It was the reason he left San Francisco before the news had become public knowledge. The medical board had taken his license from him, and without it, he wasn't much good to Starfleet. They had granted Leonard one condition when he accepted Starfleet's terms of dismissal. The official report wouldn’t be filed until Jim was discharged from the hospital, and on his way to a full recovery, which meant that unless someone went looking for the information regarding Leonard’s Starfleet status, his suspension would go unnoticed.

He loved being a Starfleet officer, but most of all, he loved being in space with Jim. So, when he saw Jim lying in that body bag, he felt like he’d lost everything. Leonard did exactly what Jim would’ve done. He’d stared death down and demanded what was his to be returned to him. Jim’s life had cost Leonard everything he had gained in the last five years.

It was Leonard’s sacrifice to bear. Better to have Jim think he quit than brand him with the guilt of Leonard’s loss. Jim would never forgive himself, forever responsible for what Leonard had done for him. He was liable to risk his captaincy and the _Enterprise_ , storm into headquarters, and demand Leonard’s re-instatement. He loved Jim too much to let him do that; a revelation he had come to while hovered over Jim's hospital bed. He spent the better part of four years following Jim, longing to make him smile and hear him laugh. Whether it was a pat on the back, or a gentle slap to the cheek mocking him, Leonard knew they were cavalier touches on Jim’s part, but he savored those precious imprints, always wondering what it would be like to replace the pads of his fingertips with the soft curve of Jim’s mouth.

With anger and frustration in his heart at everything he was being forced to give up, Leonard grasped Jim’s face between his hands, pulling him near. He caught the faint smell of antiseptic mixed with Jim’s familiar scent of soap and sweat. His breath was warm on the inside of Leonard’s wrists and Jim's lips were close enough he only needed to press forward an inch or two, and then he'd finally know the taste of Jim Kirk. Leonard’s eyes fixated on Jim’s lips, and the drop of water still hovering there. He could reach his tongue out and lick it with one sweeping move. It would be a simple gesture, but then Jim’s mouth fell open in what Leonard might have mistaken for invitation if he hadn’t known him so well. In this moment, it was about resentment, and if this was to happen he wanted it to be about so much more. A kiss between them shouldn’t be a fleeting attempt to coerce the other into something they weren’t ready to start. Jim would kiss him, it was kind of man he was, but Leonard wanted his body to be alive with the knowledge that Jim loved him back.

When he met Jim’s wide eyes, they were startled and filled with confusion, somewhat shiny with embarrassment. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It would do nothing to mollify the ache in Leonard's heart, especially if a goodbye went with it. If he kissed Jim, it would be impossible to let him go. Jim belonged in space, while Leonard was now fated for Earth. There could be nothing more while they lived worlds apart. Leonard wanted all of Jim, and one awkward kiss would never satisfy that deep-seated hold Jim had on his soul.

As much as he wanted to know those lips intimately, Leonard pulled himself away, slightly shoving Jim’s head like he needed the extra force to break the hold Jim had on him.

To save Jim he had to lose Jim.

“What the hell, Bones?”

Leonard turned away. He couldn’t stand to look at Jim any longer, not when his eyes were filled with pity. Leonard mumbled an apology under his breath, but he doubted Jim heard it over the rain.

“You just don’t get it, Jim. You never have.”

“Then tell me. Tell me what this is really about.”

Leonard flinched when Jim placed a soft hand on his back. He was pissed off with himself for letting Jim back into his heart. “I can’t be around you, Jim. It’s too much. I want an easy life.”

“That’s bullshit!” Jim spun Leonard around, grabbing him by the shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the muscle. “You’ve never been a coward. You’re better than this, Bones.” He shoved Leonard up against the wall of the shed, his head hitting the wood much harder than intended. Leonard took the pain, letting it compete with the pain in his chest.

“I thought you were different, but you’re just like everyone else!” Jim was yelling now, his eyes hard and narrowed. “Maybe you should’ve left me dead.”

Leonard’s right hand curled into a fist as his left shoved Jim away just enough so he could connect with his jaw. Jim went down quick, surprised by Leonard's punch. He no longer carried the stamina he was used to, so he fell hard against the packed dirt. Leonard hovered over him, raging with a ferocity he never knew existed.

“Don’t you ever say that to me again.” He pointed at Jim, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. “Do you have any idea what we did for you? What we all risked for your goddamn mission of vengeance? You don’t have the right to say that to me!” Leonard’s chest heaved, while his hands still shook with fury. Jim met his eyes, and for the first time since Leonard had known him, Jim Kirk was humbled.

The two stared for long, painful minutes, neither knowing exactly what to say to break through the tension weighing them down, and keeping them in place.

_“Leonard!”_ His father called out to him from the front porch. “Where’d you get off to, son? You left the door wide open. Water’s everywhere. Come clean this mess up!”

The trance was broken and Jim’s blank look was restored with deep concern. “Bones...”

“Don’t,” Leonard said raising a hand to stop Jim from saying anything further. He swallowed to get rid of the lump in his throat. It felt like he was being ripped apart all over again. “You fucking broke me lying in that body bag.” Leonard blinked back the tears he’d never shed when Jim died. “I lost everything that ever—” Leonard let out a frustrated sigh, stopping himself from revealing too much. Shaking his head, he looked at the ground for a few breaths then back to Jim. “You’re just gonna have to give me some time, Jim.”

Jim rubbed his jaw where Leonard’s fist had connected, the skin already bright and bruising. He stood, keeping his eyes fused to Leonard, then he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can give you all the time you need, Bones.” Jim’s face didn’t betray any emotion. It was the same look reserved for handling difficult negotiations. Having never been on the other side of it before, Leonard felt the full force, and a shiver ran down his spine.

“Just don’t quit on me,” Jim said, piercing Leonard with his gaze. “Don’t let this be it.”

Leonard didn’t want to quit, but he wasn’t given a choice. It was better to push Jim away for his own good, before either of them did something stupid. The _Enterprise_ , along with Jim, would be embarking without him, and it would break Leonard apart far beyond his own healing capabilities.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jim. Not right now.”

Leonard couldn’t look at him. The dark circles under Jim’s eyes and the wet clothing were enough for Leonard to know the kid was past due for some much needed rest. If he gave him one last glance, he couldn’t do what he needed to. He would cave because Jim’s whole essence was full of sorrow, and Leonard’s heart was programmed to heal Jim in any capacity. What he wanted to do was take Jim inside, get him a change of clothes and feed him a warm meal. If he did that, then he’d insist Jim stay the night, where they’d sit on the porch until the stars were high in the sky, and in the morning he’d never be able to let him go.

There was an old plaid jacket hanging on a hook on the wall behind Jim. Leonard reached for it, holding it out for Jim until he wrapped himself in the flannel. Leonard needed to walk away from Jim, but it didn’t mean he’d let the man slide back in his recovery. Taking a deep breath, Leonard ran a hand over his face, rubbing the scruff raw until he mustered up the courage he needed.

“Leave, Jim,” Leonard said. “Don’t come here again.” He brushed past Jim without another glance, not even when Jim called out after him through the rain.

 


	2. =/2\=

Country life was no longer suited to Leonard. It wasn't the lack of privacy that came with being back in his father's house, or the hundreds of questions the town's folk asked him, or even the self-inflicted loneliness, it was the sheer boredom Jim had warned him about. He'd been the CMO of a goddamn starship, _the_ flagship starship, but now he couldn’t legally diagnose arthritic knees, or treat a sniffle when anyone in town asked him for his ‘professional opinion.’

His fingers itched to treat the idiots who stopped him in the street, not because he cared, it was that fixing people was ingrained in him. He needed something to do rather than answer questions about being the ‘right hand man to Captain Kirk, the hero of the Federation.’ If one more rounded-bellied, hormonal woman asked if Captain Kirk was as handsome in person as he was on the news feeds, he was liable to get hands on a hypospray, and go on a rampage through the streets, rendering anyone unconscious who looked at him the wrong way. He was trying to forget Jim, not be reminded on a daily basis of those radiant blue eyes, and arrogant smile, or the lust and ache they conjured with just a mere mention of them.

There were mornings Leonard woke to a crushing pain in his chest. His scanners found nothing wrong with him, but it didn't mean it hurt any less. It was going to take a long time to patch the black hole that was left behind after Jim's departure. He could deny it all he wanted, but he missed Jim and his life aboard the _Enterprise_. He missed his sickbay. In less than a few weeks he'd given up an entire family, one he’d suffered alongside of through many unimaginable things, but not only that, he'd given up all that he was. Not even when his ex-wife took everything he owned had he felt this hollow.

Leonard's father was attuned to his foul moods, except he poked when he should've left well enough alone. It didn't help that his father had a huge stick up his ass when it came to Starfleet, and he made sure to remind Leonard what a mistake enlisting had been in the first place. His only saving grace was David McCoy knew enough about his son not to ask things Leonard wasn't volunteering, and both were too stubborn to give in to the other.

His father kept him busy though, and for that, Leonard was grateful. When Leonard wasn’t running errands for his extended family, his father had him tending the farm, and all the things that had been neglected over the years his father had been busy with his practice. The peach grove had long since been abandoned, which made Leonard melancholy for the past and memories of picking peaches with his Gran. Only a few scattered trees in the grove were actually bearing fruit, and probably riddled with worms, as was the case if left to their own elements. He could get the old orchard viable again, it would be a big job, but he'd get to prove Jim wrong.

With all the physical work he'd been doing, his body was lean, and he'd shed the bulk he'd gained while on the _Enterprise_. He took up running in the early mornings, convincing himself it was to tackle the high calorie, home-cooked meals he was consuming, and nothing to do with the nightmares that woke him before dawn. Most mornings he ran until he dropped, pushing until the image of Jim’s lifeless body left his mind. And if it wasn't Jim bogging down his thoughts, it was the notion his surgeon’s hands would never see an operating room again. He pushed and pushed, but after a while, the long miles started losing their effectiveness.

His father hadn't commented about his behavior, but it was only a matter of time. He'd been at the farm a month, and Leonard still hadn't confessed anything from the time 'John Harrison attacked London' to when Leonard showed up at the door, bags in hand. Eventually, that McCoy quick temper would catch up to them, and push one of them too far, locking them into a heated debate over something asinine, like who ate the last slice of Mrs. McCready’s peach pie.

As soon as Leonard stepped foot in the door, he felt an argument coming, thick and ripe in the air. He’d been in the backfield repairing a fence post that had come loose in the rain. It had taken most of the morning, but he managed to get it upright and solid again before his father wanted to replace the whole damn fence.

As he took off his muddy boots, he had a good look at his hands. They were no longer soft and supple, these were working man's hands, and as he flexed them he could feel the rough calluses from swinging the sledgehammer into the ground. He should give them a once over with a regenerator, but he liked the feel of the hardened skin, it was a deviation from what they used to be.

“Leonard! That you?”

“Who the hell else would it be?” Leonard said under his breath.

“What was that?”

“It’s me,” Leonard spoke up, rubbing a hand over his face. He headed toward his father’s office, knowing that’s where he’d find him. “Need something? I’m gonna take a shower.”

His father was standing near his desk with a rag in hand, cleaning his glasses. Why he wouldn’t get the surgery to correct his vision, Leonard didn’t know. His father was old school, like his grandfather, and intended to leave the world with the same parts with which he came into it.

“Got plans this weekend?”

“Do I ever?” Leonard rested his hands against the door jam, squeezing to let some of the tension go.

His father folded his arms, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “You happy here fixing fences?”

“Happy enough.”

“We ever gonna talk about what you’re running from? Why you came back?”

And there it was. At least his father had waited a month before he started poking in his business. Why he picked now as the time, Leonard didn't know.

“Leave it alone,” he mumbled, dropping his arms.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me, old man?” Leonard raised his chin, ready for the face off. “Thought you’d be happy I left Starfleet.”

“Relieved, maybe, but that’s for my own selfish reasons. Len, I’m not going to tell you what to do...”

“Right, ‘cause you never have before.”

“You’re old enough to know what to do with your life. You ran away to Starfleet, but now you’re running from it. In the last few years you’ve faced insurmountable odds, and yet, you stayed. So, why now? What happened that’s got you shaking like a hound shittin’ peach pits?”

“Nice.” Leonard snorted. “Forgot about that one.”

His father sighed. “Son, at some point you’re going to have to face those demons chasing you.”

His jaw was locked tight, fixing a hard stare at his father, who returned it ten-fold. Leonard hated his father prying, and unless he counted slowly to ten, he was about to tell his father exactly where he could shove his advice—which would probably land Leonard on his backside at the bottom steps of the front porch.

He settled for something a little subtler, but not by much. “If you want me to go, just say so.”

“Dammit, Leonard! That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. I’m no replacement for your mother—you two talked about everything—but I’m here and she’s not." David stood in silence, waiting for Leonard to open up. "What happened up there, son?"

His father was only trying to help, Leonard knew that, but it wasn't something he could talk about, not to him, not to anyone. He loved being CMO, loved serving on the _Enterprise_ , and he loved being under Jim’s command more than anything, but sometimes the things one loved weren't enough. Sometimes they changed a man, and broke him until he didn't recognize his own reflection when he looked in the mirror.

“I’m not running,” Leonard finally said. “They kicked me out.”

If this bit of news surprised his father, he was good enough to mask it, but Leonard saw his confusion. He was saved from furthering the conversation. The console on his father's desk lit up indicating a comm transmission. Clearly this discussion wasn’t over to David McCoy. He had a few things to say, and would find another inopportune moment to sit Leonard down, but for now, he decided to digest the information.

His father glanced to the console. “It’s for you,” he said with a grunt. “San Francisco.”

Leonard’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t heard from Jim, or anyone from the _Enterprise_ , since he'd said those harsh words in the shed over a month ago. Leonard had asked for time, and that was exactly what Jim had given him. Damn the stubborn man for finally listening.

Leonard headed to the living room, slowing his pace when he realized he was almost running. The console was alive, waiting for him to answer it. He was acting like a hyperactive, seventeen-year-old kid with his heart racing to the tune of a boy in love. As he sat at the old roll-top desk that had been in the McCoy family for generations, he ignored his sweaty palms, taking a deep breath before hitting the transmission button.

And speaking of seventeen-year-old kids...

Leonard hid his disappointment when he saw the face on the viewscreen. Although no longer a wide-eyed kid, Pavel Chekov still looked every bit the fresh-faced teenager Leonard had met on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ over two years ago, and not one of the most promising navigators in Starfleet.

“Dr. McCoy!” His face was beaming as he bounced in his chair when Leonard came into view.

“Hello, Mr. Chekov. What can I do for you?”

“It is good to see you, Doctor. Things are not same without you.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Leonard said. “Is there something you need, Mr. Chekov?”

Chekov’s cheeks flushed red as he looked off to the left of the viewscreen. “Ah, I am sorry, sir. Sorry. I-I have problem, sir.”

“Leonard’s fine. No need for the sir, Chekov.”

“Sorry, sir—Doctor.”

“This problem?”

“Ah, yes. I am having this problem and since there is no Chief-Medical-Officer currently assigned to _Enterprise_ crew, the _keptin_ recommended I contact you for consult.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“Y-yes.” Chekov’s eyes shifted to the left, off screen again, like he was waiting for someone's approval.

“Mr. Chekov, is the captain there?”

Chekov’s eyes flitted back to Leonard, panic set in his eyes. “No, sir—doctor, sorry. The _keptin_ is with...” his eyes shifted off screen again, “with Mr. Scott.”

“Mmhmm.” Leonard rolled his eyes, raising the infamous eyebrow. His attitude was a front though, because inside his chest his heart was pounding, echoing up to his ears. “And why exactly did the ‘keptin’ think you should contact me?”

“Oh!” Chekov smiled, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. “I have rash. All over.”

Leonard grunted, folding his arms and settling back in his chair. “Mr. Chekov, I’m sure your...rash, although slightly uncomfortable, is nothing serious. Probably due to a soap allergy when you switched from sonic washes to the good ol’ fashioned laundering your clothes are getting now that you’re back on Earth. You could’ve easily gone to any doctor and gotten a topical to treat it. Why the hell did you need my opinion? I’m thousands of kilometers away, and no longer a member of Starfleet in case that genius mind of yours has forgotten.”

Chekov raised a finger, nodding, like he was reciting something he’d practiced repeatedly in his head. “The _keptin_ did not wish to risk the safety of one of his chief navigators, or the safety of his crew if rash was contagious. Dr. McCoy, you are expert in infectious diseases. It is logical we—I ask for your professional opinion.”  He smiled brightly.

“Logical, my ass. Jim! I know you’re there. Don’t be so pathetic. Stop using children to do your dirty work.”

Chekov was looking off screen again, eyes wide, not sure whose wrath he’d rather endure.

“Bones!” Jim’s mock surprise came over the speaker, followed by his face behind Chekov’s. “What a surprise?” He pushed Chekov out of the chair. “That’ll be all, Mr. Chekov. Report to the clinic for that...topical.”

The door whooshed open, then closed.

“Jim...”

“Bones, I’m sorry,” Jim said and he meant it. “I know I said I’d give you time, but it’s been so damn difficult not to speak to you every day. I gave you thirty-two days. _Thirty-two._ That should be commendable. Counts for something, right?” His eyes were sad while he waited for Leonard’s response.

Leonard muffled a groan, pushing forward in his chair. “I missed you too, Jim.”

Jim let out a breath, then smiled. “You look good, Bones. Really good. I guess I was wrong about country life.”

“You look better than the last time...” Leonard let his words trail off. Jim's face had filled out, his hair was cut to regulation, and his eyes no longer carried the dark circles they had, but there was still something missing in his eyes.

“You getting enough rest and recovery time?”

Jim had the decency to save him from embarrassment, jumping into the comings and goings of the _Enterprise_ and her crew, and his temporary posting at headquarters while the ship underwent repairs.

They caught up on things, mostly about the upgrades to the ship—she was in worse shape than after the incident with the Narada. Repairs would take another few months before she was space ready again. Starfleet Command was pressing Jim to select a new CMO, but Jim was steadfastly refusing, telling them they were big shoes to fill and he wasn’t going to make an uneducated decision just because they wanted the vacant spot filled. He had a few more months to pick the right candidate who would not only be adequately qualified, but also fit in with the crew who were closer than most starship crews.

Leonard saw right through Jim’s stall tactics, even if the Admiralty didn't. He was holding onto hope Leonard would come back, unfortunately, it wasn’t up to Leonard, even if Jim thought it was.

For the first time in weeks, Leonard found himself laughing as Jim regaled him with tales about the crew—their friends. Scotty was being a pain in Jim’s backside. It seemed the Scot wasn’t ready to let the captain forget he’d been right about those torpedoes, and if Jim had listened to him in the first place, none of the repairs to the _Enterprise_ would be needed. He was reminded every time Jim complained to Scotty about a requisition order.

He filled Leonard in on the reconstruction happening in San Francisco. It was another hit to headquarters that left Starfleet scrambling for answers, and for the most part, those answers were being demanded of Jim and his first officer, Spock. The two had been tied up in meetings for the last few weeks, with barely any spare time to dwell on all that had been lost. It was Jim’s way of telling Leonard he had wanted to comm him, that he had been thinking about him, and probably would have if he hadn’t been playing poster boy for Starfleet all this time.

“And now Spock and I have to travel to London next week,” Jim said with a shake of his head. “I hate London. I would’ve thought you’d be included in these debriefings, but I guess quitting has its advantages.”

Leonard almost told Jim the truth, right there, that if he was allowed to be by Jim’s side he would. Starfleet Command had yet to decide Leonard’s fate, but if there was one thing they made clear before Leonard left, it was that he would never serve under Jim Kirk again, and that had been as hard to hear as the medical review board’s decision to suspend his license.

Lost in the sorrow, he glanced to the window and the setting sun, realizing they’d been talking well over an hour even if it felt like minutes.

“Bones...” Jim said, and Leonard diverted his eyes back to the screen. “Everyone misses you.”

“I miss them, too,” Bones admitted, feeling the weight of the truth on his chest.

“I miss you,” Jim said just above a whisper. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“Jim.” It was the only thing he could say so he left it at that. If he said anything more, or read into what Jim was saying, he’d slip over the edge again.

“Come back,” Jim said. “We’ll work this out. We always do.”

“Dammit, Jim. It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not the same without you.” He said it softly, his eyes sweeping down to his hands.

He couldn't put any more burdens on Jim. The agreement with Starfleet was to let everyone think he quit. He wouldn't let anyone ruin their career for him. He was in this mess because he was ‘too emotionally invested in the captain of the _Enterprise_ ,’ enough that he toed the lines of ethics and morality to manipulate the outcome he had wanted.

“Country life is settlin’ in, Jim. I’m happy here.”

Jim watched with a vigilant eye as Leonard tried not to choke on the lie. He did his best not to look at Jim, he could always skirt the truth with Jim, but never outright lie to him. The silence stretched a little longer than Bones had hoped, but eventually Jim gave in and gave him a sad smile.

“Okay, Bones.”

They disconnected the call with Leonard asking for more time before they spoke again. It tore his heart in two to watch Jim put on a brave face, but it was the only way the two would get through this and be able to salvage something out it.

He stared at the blank viewscreen until the sun had firmly set behind the trees. When he finally mustered up the courage to break away, it felt like his legs would buckle from the heaviness in his chest weighing him down. As he looked up, he caught sight of his father standing in the hallway, like he’d been there for the long haul, arms crossed with a regretful frown on his face.

“Why haven’t you told him?”

“Stay out of it, dad,” Leonard growled as he started for the stairs. “I’m going for a run.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _RIP, Anton. Your smile and enthusiasm will be missed._


	3. =/3\=

It was six weeks since Leonard's last contact with Jim, and every time he heard a vehicle pull up or a comm chime, he wondered if Jim had discovered the truth. There were comms from the crew, but as promised, Jim left him alone. Chekov and Sulu gave him regular updates on the work they were doing with Starfleet Command, even taking a few more command classes at the Academy. Scotty informed him of the upgrades to the ship and sickbay, hoping to entice Leonard with talk of top-of-the-line biobed replacements, and other new equipment. Uhura, bless her, let Leonard talk about Leonard. She was worried about him, and out of every one, she wasn’t buying his excuses, but was enough of a friend not to pry when he avoided certain subjects.

Even Spock made an appearance, shocking Leonard when his face appeared on the viewscreen one morning. The comm was short and direct, asking his opinion and recommendations on the new medical recruits up for assignment on the Enterprise. The one topic of conversation they all avoided was their captain, and Leonard's miracle work of resurrection. He wondered if they knew it was off limits, since they all signed the same Starfleet non-disclosure agreement, or if Jim had spoken with them. He hoped they hadn’t been gossiping about him and Jim, but knowing them as well as he did, they would have an opinion on the matter, whether they were sharing it with Leonard or not.

He couldn’t hide from Jim forever. The kid was a dog with a bone, and would keep digging until he got the answers he was looking for. Jim would want to know what measures had been taken to bring him back, and eventually he’d stumble across the ramifications of Leonard’s actions and seek out Leonard for the truth. So, when Leonard pulled his father's vehicle up to the front of the farmhouse and saw an unfamiliar vehicle parked in his spot, the blood drained from his face, then his heart started to flutter.

It had been a long, tedious day helping his great aunt with medical retrofits to her house. This was what his life was reduced to, installing devices to make life more bearable for the elderly. It wasn’t brain surgery, but at least he was making some kind of difference. He was tired, and the last thing he felt like doing was having another emotional row with Jim, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else he could hide. He willed himself to go inside.

The smell of pot roast and sweet potatoes filled his nose the moment he opened the door. His father had been cooking, and he heard the low rumble of his voice chatting away at someone in the kitchen.

“Leonard! Is that you?” he called to him. “We're in the kitchen. You got a visitor."

After two and a half months, his father's commands still hadn't stopped.  He'd been somewhat easier on Leonard since he told him about the inevitable truth of his discharge, and life had been a little more bearable, but not by much.

One last deep breath, Leonard ran his hand through his hair, then patted it down, refusing to look in the mirror. He couldn’t stall any longer. With a pounding heart and sweaty palms, he turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Dr. Marcus!” he exclaimed.

Sitting across from his father was the one person he never expected to see.

“Dr. McCoy,” she said. Setting down her cup of tea into its saucer, she started to rise, but his father pressed a soft hand on her arm to stop her.

“He may need a minute," David said. "I think you’ve knocked the McCoy manners outta him.”

“That’s a hell-of-an understatement.”

“Son, your mama raised you better. This is a lady and a doctor. Show some respect.”

His father always was a sucker for English accents, thought they were more refined than regular Georgia folk.

“Dad, I assure you she’s heard much worse.”

“Len...”

“It’s all right, David. He is correct.” She laughed as she stood to greet Leonard with her hand out-stretched. “It’s nice to see you again. I’m sorry to intrude on your solitude, Dr. McCoy, but I never had the opportunity to speak with you, to thank you after what...happened.”

“Leonard’s fine,” he mumbled. “And there’s no need for thanks, Dr. Marcus.”

“Carol,” she offered. “There is though. David, did you know your son saved my life?”

“Now, I seem to recall you doing the bit of saving. Something about a torpedo and my sorry ass about to be blown to kingdom come.”

His father cuffed him on the back of his shoulder like he was ten years old again. “Manners, Len. Or I’ll box your ears in.”

“Oh, relax, dad. Carol’s a friend.” Leonard rubbed his shoulder, glaring at his father. David stared right back, nostrils flared, and then his eyes cut sideways to Carol and a hint of a smile appeared on his face.

“We’ve left you a plate in the fridge. We already ate,” David said, eyebrow raised in the trademark McCoy way. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.” He glanced once more from Carol to Leonard, no doubt imagining marriage and babies with blond hair and hazel-green eyes, and a way to get Leonard out from under his roof.

Leonard ignored his insinuations, going straight for the plate in the fridge. He was starved, and wasn’t about to face whatever Carol Marcus had come all this way to say on an empty stomach.

He ate his meal while they small talked. She asked about the farm and his family, and he obliged with a few stories. He never had the chance to get to know Carol. She saved his life, he fixed her leg, and that was about where they left off.

She wasn’t around much at the hospital while Jim was recovering. Leonard imagined it was too difficult to see all the damage her father had been partially responsible for, well, and the fact he tried to kill every last one of them. She seemed to be quite sensitive to her self-proclaimed guilt, a feeling he knew all too well.

Once Leonard was finished with the food on his plate, he poured them both a cup of tea and they removed themselves to the porch. It was still a bit sticky, even after the sun had finally set, which meant the katydids were out in full force, their sounds almost lulling Leonard into a peaceful trance. The smell on the air was thick with magnolia blossoms mixed with manure, and compost. It wasn’t the most pleasant of smells, but it was the smell of a farm, and Leonard wouldn’t apologize for it.

“So, what brings you here, Carol?” he asked before he found himself dozing to the sounds of the night.

“I came to ask your forgiveness, Leonard.” She didn’t turn to look at him, and he was grateful.

“For what?”

“For everything my father did to cause the changes in your life.”

Leonard felt like he was caught with his pants down. He hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth.

“Me being in Georgia has nothing to do with your father.” Leonard thought about that for a second, then changed his mind. “Okay, maybe it does, but it’s not your apology to have to make. I made my own decisions to get where I am. I played my own part, as did everyone else.”

“But if my father hadn’t sent the Enterprise to Kronos, none of this would have happened to any of you.”

“Carol, your father didn’t order Enterprise to Kronos, Jim volunteered.”

“But...”

“But nothing. If there wasn’t that mission, there would've been another one. Something else for Jim to go gallivanting off to and saving lives.”

“He’s a good captain.”

“The best.”

“Then why are you here? Why aren’t you under his command as his CMO?” She was eyeing Leonard skeptically, like she was baiting him. Leonard wasn’t stupid enough to take it just yet. He’d wait her out before he volunteered anything. “I don’t believe you’re the type to be afraid of anything, Dr. McCoy. In fact, I think you’d do anything for any one of your crewmembers. You’d risk your life for them, just like Captain Kirk.”

“I would.” Leonard said it with as much conviction as he could muster and left it at that.

“For you to quit Starfleet without a word to anyone seems, as Mr. Spock would put it, highly illogical.”

“We all have our limits.”

“I don’t believe that, _Doctor_ McCoy...”

“Forgive me, Carol,” Leonard said, “but it’s been a long day. Let’s cut to the quick. You’ve got a point to make, so make it.”

Her mouth dropped open briefly, then she couldn’t help but smile. “I always liked your candor, Leonard.”

“It seems you know a lot more about my status than you’re letting on.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone the truth?" she asked. "You prefer to be branded craven?”

“Is that what they’re saying?” He chuckled, taking a sip of his tea.

“Not in so many words, but it’s implied you have cold feet about space. That’s why you quit.” She emphasized the last words with a calculating glare.

“You and I both know I didn’t quit, don’t we, Carol?”

“I’ve been researching everything my father had his hands on in Section 31. It’s been overwhelming to say the least, since none of it is in the accessible Starfleet archives. It means calling in a lot of favors, especially when it comes to any information on Khan Noonien Singh and his crew.”

Leonard still flinched when he heard that name, like the monster could hear his name being said, and was out there somewhere just waiting and plotting his next attack. Leonard supposed in some way he might be.

“I’ve read your report on how you synthesized Khan’s blood. I also had access to your debriefing, _both_ debriefings.”

“That was top clearance, Carol. How’d you manage that?”

“That is irrelevant. What _is_ relevant is what happened to you, and why there are two reports: the public one that says you quit, and the top level clearance one that says you were dismissed because your medical license was revoked. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense from where I’m sitting. I don’t take kindly to ultimatums.”

“What ultimatum?”

“I suppose they couldn’t put that in their reports, could they?” Leonard wasn’t surprised there were things omitted, but he wasn’t sure how much she knew, or if she was sent to coax certain things out of him. Trusting Carol was a leap of faith he wasn’t sure he was ready to take.

“The _classified_ report,” Carol continued, “said you risked too many lives with an untested, potentially dangerous serum. You disregarded Starfleet protocol, and compromised the hospital’s status and welfare for your own benefit, which is why you lost your medical license. It also went on to state they released you from duty, not because you no longer had a license to practice medicine aboard a starship, but because you were unfit for duty, that your mental stability was overshadowed with grief and desperation, coupled with severe PTSD.”

“Well, there’s some truth to that.” He laughed again. “What they failed to include was their demand that I turn over the formula for the serum. It’s the only thing they wanted, and when I wouldn’t give it to them, they threatened me with dismissal. So, here I am.”

“Why the lie?”

“I told the Admirals if they wanted to keep this tribunal out of the public eye, they should let it be on my own terms.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, until the buzzing insects were ringing in their ears.

“Kirk,” Carol blurted out. “You did it for him.”

Leonard wasn’t sure why he felt so at ease with Carol, or why he felt the need to open up to her. Maybe it was the idea of finally sharing this burden he’d been carrying for too long.

“I couldn’t have him risking his career to save me from this fate. And he would. It’s the kind of man he is. He’d risk it all if he knew this happened because of him and my actions to save him. He’s been through too much to have this on his conscience.”

“So, you let him think you quit.”

“Carol,” Leonard sighed. “It’s for the best. I hope you’ll respect that.”

“You love him,” she whispered into the night air.

It never escaped Leonard’s notice the way Jim had looked at Carol when she came aboard the shuttle that first day. Jim never flaunted his indiscretions in front of Leonard, he was tight lipped about things in that department, but Leonard wasn’t blind. Jim was no saint, and maybe Carol was another of Jim’s conquests caught up in his storm. Leonard’s confession to Carol, who was all but a stranger, would more than likely come at a price, but if she had crossed certain paths with Jim, maybe she’d understand how Leonard was feeling and identify with this desperate ache inside of him.

“It’s more than that,” Leonard admitted.

“He would be a difficult man to love.”

Leonard snorted. “Yah, think?” He held back what he wanted to say. What he wanted to ask was if she knew from experience, but he wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

“Have you told him?” she asked.

How did one tell someone like Jim Kirk they loved him? The guy was a burning sun, and everyone around him was a planet in his solar system, revolving around him, trying desperately to catch his light. Jim probably had a half dozen people tell him they loved him every day, including the woman sitting beside him.

How could he explain to Carol that when Jim stopped breathing, he did as well? He didn't remember those weeks it took to bring Jim back to life. He'd gone through the motions of someone so detached from life he couldn’t even remember his own name.

Sure, when Jim came to, Leonard seemed fine, well rested, and jovial even, but the moment he stepped out of Jim’s hospital room, away from those shining, clear blue eyes, Leonard crumbled. It was Philip Boyce who found him in a supply closet, hunched over, hyperventilating as if the air he hadn’t been breathing for the past two weeks had slammed into his chest all at once.

Philip had made arrangements for Leonard to take some time off, no questions asked, and took over as Jim’s attending physician, but then the tribunal happened and Leonard found himself in Georgia with nowhere else to go.

“No, I suppose I never told him in simple words,” Leonard said. "But Jim's intelligent enough to figure it out."

“Leonard, if there’s one thing I’ve come to learn about men it's that you’re stupid when it concerns love. So, unless you take a sign and beat him over the head with it until he actually stops to read it, he’s never going to know. Especially someone like James Kirk.”

“You sound like you know from experience?” There, he said it, and felt the pang from his open question.

“God, no. Not me.” She laughed. “Roommate,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “Let’s say she and Jim had carnal knowledge.”

“So did half the Academy.”

“Therein lies the problem,” she said, winking.

Leonard’s relief was hard to contain. He felt the pressure in his chest subside, and couldn’t hide his smile as his whole body relaxed back into his chair. His wariness of Carol disappeared, and he suddenly found himself liking the woman, relinquishing all doubts about her.

Leonard was aware of Carol watching him as they sat in companionable silence now that the elephant was no longer infringing on their space on the porch.

“He misses you,” she said, still watching him.

“How is he?”

“He’s Kirk.” She shrugged. “I don’t know him very well, but there’s something different about him than when I first met him. Maybe it’s because we’re planetside, but he seems calm. Sad, almost.”

“He was born in space, probably’ll die there, too.” Leonard felt his ears flush, realizing what he just said. He quickly cleared his throat. “I think Jim’s at peace in the black. Like it’s in his blood...where he belongs.”

“Maybe,” Carol said. “But I think it’s something more than that. He’s not the smug jerk I remember him to be. It’s like he’s grieving.”

“We all are, sweetheart,” Leonard said into his teacup. “A lot of lives lost. And Pike was like a father to Jim.” Again, Leonard felt like he’d stuck a foot in his mouth. “I’m sorry, Carol. It must be hard for you. You lost your father, too.”

“That man was not my father. Not in the end.” Her voice was hard and hollow, and Leonard’s fondness for the woman was growing. She didn’t deserve the stigma that would follow her around from her father’s name.

Leonard didn’t say anything in return, words were not what she needed from him. He simply nodded his head, and placed his hand on her arm giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s too late for you to head back," he said. "We have guest rooms aplenty. Why don’t you make use of one of them?”

Carol wiped her cheek with her free hand, turning to look out at the trees. “Thank you, Leonard. That’s very kind.”

After she accepted, the two settled in for the night on the porch without the pressure of goodbyes. Leonard had changed their choice of beverage to bourbon and brought her a quilt to keep her warm from the night air.

“How’s the leg?” Leonard asked, sitting down next to her.

“Fully healed, thanks to you. Not even a scar, which is more than I can say for my psyche.”

“You going back up?”

“I’ve been offered an assignment on the Enterprise, but I haven’t decided yet.” She paused a moment, taking another sip. With the taste of alcohol on her tongue, it seemed to loosen just a little. “I don’t think Commander Spock likes me very much.”

“Darlin’, he doesn’t like anyone. Trust me.”

“He seems to like you well enough.”

“Me?” Leonard laughed. “Well, that's crazy. Whatever gave you that idea?”

She shrugged. “He must if he signed up for the roster.”

“What roster?”

She placed a hand over her mouth. “I've put my foot in it.”

"You might as well put the other one in too."

She sighed, placing a hand over her face. "You weren't supposed to know. Captain Kirk, with the help of Lieutenant Uhura, set up a roster of times to comm you. It was a schedule spread apart with enough time between so you wouldn’t get sick of their pestering, but not enough time apart that you’d get lonely.”

“I’m being babysat like _I'm_ the infant.” Leonard didn’t know if he should be offended by the idea, or impressed they’d calculated the time it would take for Leonard to get annoyed by their constant chatter or sad by their absence. He wondered if Spock had played a part in those calculations.

It was Jim’s way of reaching out to him without reaching out to him.

After some time, Carol voiced what Leonard had surmised. “He cares about you.”

“I’ve never doubted that.”

“He does love you,” she offered.

“Not in the way I need him to.”

“I don’t think Jim Kirk could ever love someone in that way.”

Leonard couldn’t agree or disagree, he could only hope.

“Space is big, Leonard. There’s enough room for the two of you up there. You don’t have to isolate yourself from everyone.”

“I know, Carol,” he said.

“If they reinstate you, will you go?”

“They’ll never assign me to the Enterprise, and they’ll never assign me to Jim’s command. And the thought of being on a ship without Jim Kirk in the captain’s chair, well, that just doesn’t sit well with me.”

 


	4. =/4\=

“Leonard!”

Every time his father had something to say, it started with his name being yelled, even if he was in the next room.

“Son!” he added, when Leonard didn’t answer right away.

“Yeah,” he sighed, rising from his chair, where he was peacefully reading a medical journal focused on Vulcan physiology.

“Letter came for you. A real one.”

A week had passed since Carol's visit, and for the most part his father had left him alone. They settled into a routine that was comfortable, almost too comfortable, so Leonard was expecting things to come to a head.

His father was in the kitchen, going through the bills on his PADD while drinking his late morning coffee. With his back to Leonard, he held the letter over his shoulder so Leonard could see the Starfleet insignia in the top left corner of the crisp, beige envelope.

“Thought you were done with all that?”

“I am,” Leonard said. “Probably just my discharge papers.” He opened it, giving it a quick glance, then paused as he took in the words. “Sonuvabitch.”

“That good?” His father swiveled in his chair, looking at Leonard over the rim of his glasses.

“I have to go to San Francisco.” Leonard shook his head, reading the letter again. “It’s a summons. There’s going to be another hearing.”

“For what?” His dad reached for the letter. “Is this about your license?”

“No, something different.”

“Thought you said it was on hold for a few months?"

“It _was._ I finished all the debriefings. There’s still another three months before the Medical Board makes a decision on my license. I’m no good to Starfleet if I can’t practice. This is different. They’re going to determine if charges should be brought against me.” Leonard took a deep breath, avoiding his father’s eyes.

“For saving a man’s life? What kinda tripe is that? What charges we talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Playing God, I suppose.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Leonard dismissed it. He wasn’t supposed to discuss it. He was under strict orders as one of the conditions of his discharge. Starfleet Intelligence strictly classified everything about Jim's resurrection. They couldn’t exactly let the public know Leonard had brought someone back from the dead. The repercussions of that act would be unfathomable if leaked throughout the galaxy.

“When do you have to go?”

“Next week.”

“I can do next week,” his father said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Think I’ll go with you to the city.”

Leonard knew he wasn’t talking about Atlanta to catch the shuttle.

“You hate the west coast. And you hate Starfleet even more.”

“It’s been a long time since I stretched my legs. Besides, last time I was there was your graduation, and it was a goddamn solemn affair. I didn’t see much of the city. And now with all the damage, I’d like to see the rebuild.”

“Dad, it’s a closed hearing. You can’t attend.” He pushed past his father’s excuses for traveling with him and cut straight to the point.

“I hear the city’s pretty this time of year,” David said.

Leonard recognized the undeniable signs of when his father had made a decision. He was a McCoy after all, and if his dad said he was going, no amount of arguing on Leonard’s part would change that.

David McCoy despised Starfleet and all that it ‘pretended’ to stand for. He called hogwash when he saw it, and according to him, ‘Starfleet was no peacekeeping armada.' Earth hadn’t been militarized since the end of World War III when it almost destroyed itself. To David McCoy, Starfleet, under the guise of the Federation of Planets, was a way to skirt around the Antimilitarism Directive a hundred years later. He understood the need for Starfleet, he just didn’t like the lying bastards and their hypocritical humanitarian directive. He preferred to call a spade a spade. As far as he was concerned, Starfleet and the Federation militarized Earth and the rest of the Federation planets under one establishment, giving them too much power.

When Leonard enlisted it tested their tenuous relationship, probably why Leonard had done it in the first place, to the point where they’d stopped speaking. It took Leonard’s close call with death, and the loss of Vulcan for David to accept his son as a decorated member of Starfleet, but only if they agreed never to discuss his career choice.

The fact David was willing to go with Leonard meant he saw right through the bullshit and was as skeptical about the hearing as Leonard.

“You should give that captain friend of yours a call. Maybe he knows something.” David was watching Leonard over his coffee cup.

“No,” he said, frowning. “Jim’s got enough on his plate.”

“What about someone else from that ship of yours?”

“It’s not my ship anymore, dad.” His father only grunted at him as he set his mug down. “And for the record, I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sitting back in his chair, his father eyed him up, then smiled. “Can’t your ol’ man want to spend time with you?”

“Like we don't already?”

“Len,” his father said, finally letting his anger show. “You know damn well this is serious. I know you can’t tell me what it is, but those bastards want something, don't they?"

Leonard stared at the letter for a few silent moments. “Yeah. S’ppose they do. And I can sure as hell guess what it is.”  The fact Leonard hadn’t turned over a working formula for a viable serum had everything to do with this hearing.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” his father said, with kind eyes. “I promised myself after last time, I wouldn’t pry. You’re a grown man, but there’s something more to you and your captain, and that psychotic terrorist who blew up half of San Francisco.”

“Let it go, dad.”

He had told his father what he could about Admiral Marcus, John Harrison and the Vengeance, but he left out the part about Jim dying, only telling him what he was allowed, that Jim had been critically injured but Leonard had saved his life in surgery. Rumors had been abundant though, and had made the news feeds despite all of Starfleet’s deflections.

“What’s going on with you and that Jim fellow?” His father motioned for Leonard to sit, and it wasn’t a request.

“Dad,” Leonard sighed, “I can’t talk about it.” He should’ve known his father would ask questions; they shared the same genes, which meant he was smart enough to make assumptions.

“I don’t mean what you’re not allowed to talk about. I mean about you, and him.”

“Nothing,” Leonard said through clenched teeth, still refusing to sit. “Please, just drop it. You don’t want to hear it, not really.” Leonard was trying to keep his voice steady, but was failing. Avoiding his father’s eyes, he played with the calluses on his hands.

“Sit.” His father kicked out the chair and Leonard sat. He waited for Leonard to settle, then began. “Son, do you really think I care who you love?” Laughing with abandon, he reached his hand across the table. “I only care that you love _._ It’s what your mother and I wanted for you. We worried when you married that dreadful woman. She never could love you back, not the way you needed.”

“Seems to be a pattern for me,” Leonard whispered, still looking at his hands.

“You sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.” Leonard let out staggering sigh.

His father tapped the table. “Look at me, Leonard.” After a few breaths between them, Leonard finally raised his head. “This whole business with that godforsaken Starfleet has to be handled head on, just like all aspects of your life. Running’s not the answer, neither is burying your head in the sand and using excuses. I don’t know what it is between the two of you, but a blind man can see there’s something, and it runs both ways. You need to play it out or you’ll end up a miserable, ol’ cuss like your great-Uncle Josiah.”

Leonard felt the heat rising up from his chest making its way to his cheeks. His heart was pumping double time as his father’s words sunk in. It was the most the two of them had ever spoken about Leonard’s personal life, not even when he was a child entering puberty had they gotten anywhere near this level of familiarity.

“Dad,” he said, his voice a little rough, “this means a lot. Thanks.” As much as he appreciated his father and his sentiments, Leonard didn’t have it in him to explain Jim Kirk to his father.

=/\=

They landed in San Francisco in the late afternoon. His father mentioned nothing about Leonard's conquered phobia of flying, but his smirk during take off and landing was tough to miss. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Leonard stopped mid-air when his eye caught sight of a certain shade of blond hair. His breath caught in his throat as he looked through the crowd of people in the terminal. His father, who'd been watching him like a hawk since they'd left the house, followed his gaze. After a few panicked moments, Leonard realized his eyes were playing tricks on him and he could breathe again. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, he was the one who had cut ties with Jim, but part of him hoped he would be there to greet him like so many times before. Jim had hacked his way into Leonard's life in a persistent way, he wasn’t used to Jim giving up so easily or maybe it was Leonard who was easy to give up on.

A hand gripped his shoulder, a comforting touch, and then his father leaned into him. “Every path has a few puddles, son. Come on, shuttle for the hotel’s over there."

He let his father walk on while Leonard feigned to struggle with his bag, mumbling under his breath, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Leonard had booked them into a hotel safely away from most of the usual Starfleet local haunts. He wanted to keep his father far away from Starfleet. Leonard convinced himself it had nothing to do with staying on the other side of town from Jim's new residence.

By the time they had settled into the suite, their stomachs reminded them they hadn't eaten since they left the house. They went to the restaurant off the lobby, and ordered what Leonard thought was a decent meal, but his father was of his own opinion. Throughout the meal he griped about fancy hotels with fancy menus serving uninspiring food. Leonard's head was aching, and the only cure was to order a drink despite his father's disapproving look. It was late afternoon, not exactly an unsociable hour, especially when one's nerves felt like they were on display for public consumption. His father didn't want a drink, but after some careful observation he understood Leonard's need to be alone. Claiming fatigue from the trip, his father retired to the room to take a nap, leaving Leonard at the bar nursing his second drink.

He should've known his father had been up to something. He'd been acting strange since they left Georgia. Leonard chalked it up to nerves, there were plenty to go around, but when he felt that recognizable hand on his shoulder and smelled mint and soap with a hint of sweat, like someone had just run a few miles to burn off endless energy, he guessed what his father had done.

"Bones…"

“Goddamn it,” Leonard mumbled, gripping his glass with both hands. “That man doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

Jim settled onto the stool next to him, ordering whatever Leonard was drinking. He waited for the bartender to pour before he answered Leonard. “He’s worried about you,” Jim said. “With good reason, too.”

“You know as well as I do he's got a hard on for Starfleet.”

"So, he's overreacting?"

"Yes," Leonard said. "No. I don't know. Doesn't matter, Jim, he shouldn't have told you."

They left Leonard's comment sit between them unanswered, and instead, they picked up where they had left off countless times before: Sitting next to each other in a bar, nursing whatever was their drink of choice, settling into easy conversations. This late in the day, it was a melancholy afternoon, so it was Saurian brandy that was in their glasses. The two had never filled the silences with idle chitchat, but that was exactly what they were doing now. Leonard didn’t give a damn about Jim’s temporary lodgings, or that he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep on the mattress he’d bought since he’d been back. And he was sure Jim didn’t care about the fence Leonard fixed, or that ol’ Mrs. Anderson’s hound had pups, and Leonard’s father was thinking of adopting one.

Leonard wanted to reach across the expanse, take Jim by the neck and shake him until this awkwardness melted away. It was entirely Leonard's fault, which made it even more frustrating. If they could go back to the way things were, he’d forgo everything for a couple of hours to have their old camaraderie.  

Maybe Carol was right. Jim certainly seemed different, solemn if that was even possible. He was humbled, and as much as Leonard used to grumble about the kid's cockiness, he didn’t particularly like this side of Jim. It unnerved him. Enough that he needed to take the bull by the horns.

“Dammit, Jim,” Leonard said, and Jim stopped his rambling about how uncomfortable the high collar on the new uniforms was. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Talk to me.”

Jim frowned, turning to look at him. “That’s what we’re doing, Bones.”

“No, that’s not what we’re doing. Not us.”

Jim let out a low chuckle, then took a small sip of his drink.

“Can we cut the bullshit now?” Leonard asked.

“Yeah, Bones. We can.”

“Good. So, then tell me what’s going on with you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jim shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.”

Jim started to laugh. “What do you want from me, man?”

“I want you to talk to me.” They quieted their voices, aware they'd risen above the level of the ambient noise in the bar.

After Jim finished his drink and ordered another, he finally opened up. “Do you know they’ve got me back at the Academy?”

“Teaching?”

“No, not teaching. Pike saved me from this fate once before, but he’s not here anymore. I have to retake some classes before they’ll officially give her back to me.”

“The _Enterprise_?”

Jim nodded.

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Is there any doubt you won’t get her?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? There’s always an agenda with Starfleet. I’m being taught a lesson in humility.”

Leonard snorted. “Yeah, they should know by now that dog don’t hunt.”

“You know, Bones...” Jim laughed, “I’ve actually missed those metaphors of yours.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ve spent the last three months in Metaphor Haven, Georgia. You met my father? He’s the mayor.”

“The metaphors aren’t the only thing I’ve missed.” Jim swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “And why did I have to hear about this tribunal from your father?”

“You have enough on your plate, Jim. You don’t need to worry about this, too.”

“Bones, I know you said you needed time, and well, you know...” he waved a hand in the air, “but this is serious. Are we no longer friends? Friends tell each other important shit...like meeting with admirals in a tribunal about things you did to save said friend’s life.”

“We’re friends, Jim,” Bones said and left it at that. The silence sat there, heavy and substantial, but there was too much fondness between them to be unpleasant.

“Looks like I’m not the only one they’re going after,” Jim eventually said. “Any idea what tomorrow’s about?”

“I got a pretty good idea,” Leonard said, with a quick look around the bar but it was before the dinner crowd, so it was empty for the most part. “I can’t tell you, Jim. I hope you can respect that.”

“That’s _bullshit,_ Bones. I won’t respect that. I can’t. We used to tell each other everything.”

When Leonard didn’t budge, Jim leaned away, critically eyeing him up. “What are you hiding from me, Bones? You've been lying to me. I didn't see it until now. You can tell me right here, or I can walk away and find out myself, even if I have to walk straight into the Fleet Admiral’s office and demand answers. Take your pick, but either way you know I’ll get the answers I want.”

This was exactly what Leonard had been afraid of, all because his father felt the need to meddle in his business. Jim wasn’t one for idle threats, and Leonard had to admit he was tired of the lies, he was tired of missing Jim and tired of being so damn alone through all of this. He had no idea what was in store for him tomorrow morning. He thought he’d reached rock bottom when they told him he’d never serve with Jim again, then they went and told him he couldn’t practice medicine. How much further could he fall? The only option left was incarceration, and if that happened, well, he didn’t want to think what Jim would do if they placed Leonard into custody.

“Not here, Jim.” Leonard sighed, waving the bartender over to settle the bill. “I have a room upstairs.”

 


	5. =/5\=

After purchasing a bottle from the bartender, they made their way to Leonard’s room. He had a feeling the suite would be vacant. His father had orchestrated this whole encounter, and knowing the matter was sensitive and needed privacy, he would have found somewhere else to be.

Jim settled on the sofa, while Leonard sat in the leather chair. There was a small coffee table between them, where Leonard set up their drinks before beginning the inevitable discourse. He needed a few good doses of liquid courage to get through this. In all the years they had known each other, Leonard had never lied to Jim, and if there was one thing Jim couldn’t abide by, it was a liar.

Jim had been patient since they left the bar, not pushing Leonard to talk before he was ready, but his patience had worn thin.

“Bones, enough stalling. Drinks are topped up, we’re alone, now it’s your turn to tell me what the hell’s going on.”

Fingers clenched around his glass, Leonard took a deep breath before settling back in his chair. Shrugging a shoulder, he avoided Jim's gaze. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly cash in all my chips at the end of the night.”

“As much as I’ve missed the metaphors, I’m going to need a little more than that.”

“I couldn’t do it, Jim. Just didn’t seem right to hand over all that power to the people who want to start a war with the Klingon Empire. I may have kept a few details out of my reports.”

“Like what?”

“Like how to synthesize the serum I created to, well, you know...” Out of the corner of his eye, Jim flinched, but when he glanced his way, Jim was aloof, leaning back on the couch, settling his leg across the other.

“Bones, I know you’re a genius and everything, but can’t their doctors just do what you did?”

Leonard raised his eyebrow, letting Jim know there was much more to what he’d done than what he let on.

“Bones...” Jim said, drawing out his name. “What did you do?”

It was the first time since the hospital that either of them had mentioned the serum. Leonard had left San Francisco before he’d shared any of the finer details with Jim, and for the past three months, they hadn’t exactly been speaking. It had become a bit of a taboo subject, neither one wanting to venture down the road that would lead to a discussion of feelings. Jim never asked Leonard why he had done what he did, maybe he was afraid of the answer, knew what it would be, and wasn’t ready to hear it. Leonard couldn’t lie, not successfully anyway, and would tell him the truth. A world without Jim was a world Leonard didn’t want to be a part of.

“Look, Jim,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about everything just yet, but I doubt anyone will be able to replicate the serum. The process was... _complex._ A Hail Mary of sorts.”

Jim's stare was piercing, making Leonard’s breath hitch at the sight of him. It had been too long since they'd been this close. Jim's eyes were still as vibrant as Leonard remembered, but there was something missing. There was a sadness hidden in the depths of blue he hadn't seen before. Jim’s eyes never wavered from Leonard’s, and he watched when Jim realized that Leonard had risked a lot more than his career by bringing him back from the dead.

Jim’s eyes began to tear. He bowed his head to avoid Bones' scrutiny.

“I’m sorry, Bones,” Jim said. “This is all my fault.”

“Like hell it is,” Leonard growled.

“It is. Even Pike said I wasn’t ready for it. He was right.”

“What?” Leonard said, confused by the turn of the conversation. “Ready for what?”

“Command.”

“Poppycock, Jim! Pike believed in you.”

Jim huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, but he was right. I don’t take responsibility for anything, never have. And one of these days I’m going to go too far and get everyone under my command killed. Admit it, that’s why you quit on me."

These kinds of moments and conversations with Jim always turned Leonard's heart against him. Jim needed him, and as much as Leonard had been trying to protect him, his absence had done the most damage. In this room, at this moment, it wasn't about Leonard, or what was going to happen to him tomorrow, or even how much it hurt to sit this close to Jim, it was about Jim needing Leonard to get through this incertitude and penitence he was suffering from. Jim needed him to be that shoulder to lift him up. It's what Leonard did, what he always did from the first time they met.

He loved Jim, and in Jim's own special way he loved and depended on Leonard more than he would ever admit. Leonard was the one person Jim could rely on to tell him when he was being an ass, and also the only person to give the magnificent bastard unsolicited praise, which was the only praise Jim truly accepted.

“Dammit, Jim,” Leonard said, setting his glass down a little too hard. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve never been one to second-guess anything. You’ve always been the kind of man who does what you have to do.”

“And what’s that?” He stared into his drink, shoulders slumped with a hitch in his voice.

“You turn death into a fighting chance to survive,” Leonard said, nudging Jim with his foot. “That’s what you do, and we’re all better for it. This thing tomorrow? I learned it all from you.”

“Quite the God complexes between the two of us." Jim scoffed.

“Jim,” Leonard said, his heart bleeding all over again for this man. “I know what Pike meant to you. And I’m sorry you lost him, but he saw greatness in you.” Leonard sat beside him on the sofa, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I see it, too.”

Jim trembled under his touch, and Leonard gave him a reassuring squeeze. Jim wasn't the kind of man who cried, but Leonard didn't need to see tears to know how broken Jim really was. With Pike gone, Jim would've leaned on Leonard, except he'd gone and removed himself, cutting off all contact. Not only had Jim lost a father figure, but he'd lost his best friend, too.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around, Jim."

“I know it’s not fair of me to say this,” Jim said, still not looking at Leonard, “but I can’t do it without you, Bones.”

“You can. And you will. I believe in you, whether I’m here or up there.” What Leonard wanted to add was, ‘It’s why I love you,’ but he kept the rest of that sentiment nestled safely on the tip of his tongue.

“After all we’ve been through, you’re just going to walk away from me.”

At this point, keeping the truth from Jim was potentially more damaging than protecting him with the lie. Tomorrow morning, one way or another, it was all going to come out anyway.

“I don’t have a choice,” Leonard said, finally ready to confess. “I lied, Jim. It was the only way I saw fit to protect you. I broke a number of protocols and the Medical Board took my license away from me. Starfleet dismissed me."

Jim's shoulder tensed under his hand, and Leonard could feel the tendons in Jim's neck stretch as he digested Leonard's words. It was a long beat before Jim reacted. Cursing, Jim bolted up, and began pacing the room.

"Were you even going to tell me? All this time you’ve been lying to me?" He raised his hands in the air. "What for? What purpose did it serve? Mine?”

“Yes.”

"Bullshit, Bones. It served _your_ purpose."

"Now, hold on a minute. What would you have done if I _had_ told you? What are you thinking right now? You’re thinking about storming your way into headquarters, and demanding they reinstate me. Something along those lines?” Jim still paced, not even bothering to argue because it was the truth. “This was about what I did. Not you. There was no point dragging you into it, and risking your command.”

“It’s already at risk!”

“I’m a means to an end, Jim. That’s all it is. They wanted something, and I wouldn’t give it to them.”

“So, what’s tomorrow, then?”

Leonard sighed, shaking his head. “Honestly? I don’t know. I guess they’ll try a new threat to get what they want.”

“Who are you meeting with?”

“I’m not sure. It didn’t say in the summons, but I'm assuming it's Starfleet Intelligence.” Leonard recognized the look in Jim’s eyes. He was hatching a plan. He always had a plan even when there was no plan to be had. “Don’t even think about it. You’re staying out of this. It’s not your fight. _I_ did this, and I’ll be the one to bear the aftermath.”

"Something's not right here, Bones. What is it you always say to me? ‘Don’t go cornering something that’s meaner than you.’”

“I’m pretty mean, Jim.”

“Starfleet Intelligence is meaner.” Jim folded his arms, facing Leonard. “Just answer me this. Why won’t you give it up? What does it mean to you? If it could save lives…”

“It’s not about saving lives. Not with them. It never was. If I give them the formula, what’s to stop them from continuing what Marcus was doing?”

The kind of power that existed in Khan's blood, and the serum Leonard created was not to be wielded lightly. There would always be someone who wanted to control ultimate power like that, to dominate and destroy with the secret to restore life from lifelessness. There were endless possibilities with learning the complexities behind Khan’s blood. There was too much hatred in the galaxy for something as dangerous as that knowledge to exist, which is why the curious, medical side of Leonard’s brain lamented the destruction of the formula and the serum. And yet, the compassionate, human side of his brain celebrated it.

Leonard never had the luxury of time when he had been working on the serum. He never questioned the ethics of what he was doing. If he had, Jim would still be dead. His grief and his need to have Jim with him again, no matter the cost, had blindly driven him to finding the formula. The daunting similarities behind Jim’s actions against Khan, and Leonard’s action against death still plagued him most nights. Leonard wasn’t a godly man, he was a man of science, but even he recognized how divinely wrong his actions could be misconstrued.

 _‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’_ That had been Jim’s sin, and Leonard had followed with his own. _'The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.’_

"No one should have that power, Jim. I don't care what they do to me. Can you understand that?" He had tasted what it meant to play God, and knew damn well it was a power this universe wasn’t ready for.

Jim stopped in front of the window, arms folded while he stared out the window. His back was straight, tension humming throughout his whole body. "You're a stubborn fool, you know that?" Jim whispered.

"Yeah, and you've known that for years. Not about to change just because some damn important, ignorant people are telling me otherwise." Leonard shook his head, sipping his bourbon.

Turning abruptly, Jim grabbed his drink off the table, swallowing the contents in one go. "They could throw you in the brig."

“I figured as much.”

“If that happens—”

“Jim...”

“ _If_ it happens...” Jim slammed the glass down, “I’ll get you out. Even if it means breaking you out, and taking you to some distant planet outside of the Federation where you could practice medicine again.”

“Goddamn it, Jim. This is exactly why I kept it from you. You stay the hell out of this.” Leonard stood up, toe to toe with Jim.

“Too late.”

“I mean it!”

Jim fisted his hands in the front of Leonard’s shirt, pushing him back against the wall. “I know what being a doctor means to you, Bones! What makes you think you can damn your life to save mine? I didn’t ask for this, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have agreed to it if I'd known what would happen to you. You should’ve just—”

Leonard shoved him as hard as he could, making Jim stumble over his feet, but he managed to stay upright.

“You say it, Jim, and I’ll knock you flat on your ass again. Except this time, I won’t stop with the one hit. I’ll keep going until both of us can’t get up, and all that goddamn work I did will be for nothing.” With his jaw clenched and eyes wide, he dared Jim to say what was hanging in the room. “You selfish bastard. Maybe Pike was right. You don’t give a damn about other people, and how they might feel about you!” Bones was yelling, and his voice was surely carrying out into the hotel hallway. He could feel the tendons on his neck popping along with the twitch in his eye. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as he stalked toward Jim. “You don't get it. And you never will. Do you ever stop and think how your actions affect the rest of us?”

“Every minute of the day!” Jim snapped back, giving Leonard a two handed push of his own. “That’s all I think about. I’ve lived my life not giving a shit about anyone, and now I have an entire ship to worry about. I have a _family_ and people who care too much, and you cloud my judgment, make me second-guess everything I’m doing, and for what? Who am I that you need to fight for me...alongside me? I don’t deserve it, Bones. I’m _nothing_.  All those people dead because of me, and yet I’m the one who’s alive. It doesn’t make any sense.”

During Jim’s tirade, he had pushed and pushed until Leonard’s back was up against the wall again. Only inches apart, the two were breathing heavily, their chests rising in tune to each other.

“Why me?” Jim curled his fists into Leonard’s shirt collar.

Leonard’s blood was singing. Being so close to Jim, his body came alive while his heart ached for the man who didn’t understand the notion of love and breaking all barriers, even death, to hold on to that kind of love. Leonard wasn’t going to walk away this time. He’d kept Jim at arm’s length since that first breath of life, and if he continued this way, Jim would slip away without ever knowing he was loved.

Leonard’s hand came up to grip Jim’s neck. He squeezed, pulling Jim closer until his arm was wrapped tight around him. In a soft voice, he spoke into Jim’s ear. "You've always been worth it. That's what you've never understood."

“You risked everything. Why, Bones?” he whispered with a strangled cry as his head came to rest on Leonard’s chest. “Why did you bring me back?”

"Don’t make me say it, you idiot," Leonard said. "Actions always did speak louder than words.”

Jim let out one short sob, then laughed. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?”

“It takes one to know one.”

Jim lifted his head, locking his eyes onto Leonard’s. It shot straight through Leonard, giving rise to the blood in his cheeks. He should’ve been embarrassed, but this was Jim, the only person who got under his skin and stayed there even through death. He had tried life without Jim, and it just didn’t work—it never would.

“It was one hell of a gesture,” Jim said softly.

Looking into Jim’s bright eyes, Leonard thought they looked hopeful, no longer forlorn like only minutes ago. So he soaked it up, and with courage his father might be proud of, he decided to stop running.

“Who said I wasn't a romantic?" He matched Jim’s smile, letting his gaze slip lower, locking onto Jim’s lips.

Jim closed his eyes. “Bones,” he said, resting his forehead against Leonard’s, and the exhale of his name gave rise to the feelings he'd been trying so desperately to suppress these past few months.

There was a trace of sweet bourbon on Jim's breath, and Leonard wanted to taste it, but he was going to let Jim make the first move. He had wanted this for too long to have any regrets.

“I’m no good for you, Bones.” His hands came to rest at the base of Leonard’s neck.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“This thing tomorrow—”

"Jim..."

“It’s my fault, Bones. I need to make it right.”

“Still an egotistical bastard. Considering you were lying dead in a black body bag, I’d say you had nothing to do with it.” Leonard felt a chill run up his spine as the memory of Jim’s pallid skin flashed in his head. Jim took a deep breath letting it out slowly, and the warmth on Leonard's skin helped to vanquish all thoughts of Jim's lifeless body. His hands moved to grip Jim's hips, digging his fingers into warm flesh.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, Bones, but I want you to know I’m lucky you’re in my life. You fought for me, and no one’s ever done that. Well, no one other than Pike, but I think that was a bit self-serving.” Jim chuckled, licking his lower lip. “I _am_ happy to be alive, especially knowing you haven’t given up on me. Whatever happens, we’ll get through this.” He leaned in and placed a soft, almost absent, kiss on Leonard’s lips. It wasn’t the desperate want and anger that had hung in the air only moments ago, it was tender and filled with what Leonard hoped was love.

When Jim pulled away, Leonard held him close, but they avoided each other's eyes. “Don’t think it wasn’t self-serving for me, Jim. It goddamn was.”

Jim laughed, rubbing his thumb along Leonard’s jaw. "There's too much to do. _Fuck_." Jim slipped out from under his arms, running his hands through his hair.  "I want to stay and explore this, Bones, I really, really do, but I have to go."

Leonard fought hard to hide his crushing disappointment, and even more so his panic. As much as he had imagined this moment, it hadn't included Jim running off after one chaste kiss. After a few months’ separation, Jim more than likely had a new life, maybe even someone waiting for him at his place, so it was understandable he had to leave.

"What do you have to do, Jim?" He shouldn’t have asked, the potential answer could damage him permanently.

"I’ve got some favors to call in," Jim said. “It’s late, and there’s lots to do before tomorrow.”

"Goddamn it," Leonard growled, his anger outweighing his momentary relief. "I told you to leave it be."

"You know I can't do that. Especially not _now_."

"Stop trying to be the damn hero for once. Sometimes you have to let the rest of us fight our own battles."

"I get that," Jim said. "But this isn't one of those times."

"You'll lose her, Jim. You'll lose the _Enterprise_ for good if you go messing around where you shouldn't."

"Have some faith.” Jim rolled his eyes. “I’ll stay out of it until I need to step in. Does that work for you?"

"If this is Section 31, they'll take out anyone who gets in their way." Leonard was seeing red. This anger toward Jim had been building for months, possibly ever since Nibiru when Jim had dragged him to that doomsday planet when he hadn’t wanted to go, and now everything was rushing to the surface. It was a waste of breath trying to tell Jim what to do, but he was going to damn well try, even if it meant knocking him out and holding him hostage until this was over. For once in their godforsaken friendship, Jim Kirk was going to listen him.

Leonard reached for Jim's wrists, but Jim had gained some of his speed and strength back, so he easily dodged Leonard's attempt. It didn't deter Leonard, though. He was too upset and desperate to let Jim go that easily. He lunged for Jim, wrapping an arm around his neck in a weak chokehold. "You stupid, arrogant bastard," he said through clenched teeth.

"Are you going to wrestle me, Bones?" Jim said, grabbing hold of Leonard's arm. "Going to sit on me until the morning?" Jim was laughing, which only fueled Leonard's fury.

"I just might." Leonard increased his hold on Jim, twisting until he had better leverage to take him down. Leonard could tell Jim wasn't sure what was happening, and he was letting Leonard shove him around, but as soon as Leonard almost had him on the ground, Jim's instincts kicked in. He spun in Leonard's hold, bringing his arm up to wrap around Leonard's waist, driving him backward until Leonard hit the edge of the sofa, toppling over, pulling Jim with him. They tumbled over the arm of the sofa, crashing down on the table, and splintering the wood until it buckled underneath them.

Jim had taken the brunt of the fall with Leonard having landed on top of him. It surprised them at first, both of them hesitating from the sound of furniture breaking, but the shock on Jim's face quickly turned from pain to indignation.

Leonard knew all of Jim's expressions, having watched them for years, so he was ready when Jim made his next move. Leonard's knee came up, just as Jim tried to wrap his legs around Leonard. The two were locked in a hold that would probably make each of them blush if they weren't so distracted by their umbrage of each other. Their grunts and groans alone were enough to think something else was going on in the room other than two grown men wrestling for no real apparent reason.

"This is ridiculous," Jim said huffing.

Leonard's face was only inches away from Jim's, and as he struggled to break Jim's grip, his hips came in contact with Jim's, causing a heat to rise up his spine, forging its way to his cheeks. For a moment, all he could think about was pushing his hips down to get some friction and sudden relief from the ache that was building.

He caught Jim's eye, and could've sworn he felt Jim move upward against him ever so slightly. They stopped their struggles, realizing what kind of compromising position they had landed themselves in. The room was silent, no longer filled with their grunts and labored breaths as they both held them back, neither moving a muscle. The longing Leonard had been feeling for months pushed at his anger, nudging it out of the way. For too long Leonard had been on the sidelines. It was now or never if he ever wanted to play in the ‘Jim Kirk Game of Life.’

“Jim...” Leonard said, relaxing his hold, letting his body mold to Jim’s. This time there was no mistaking the movement in Jim’s hips, and Leonard suppressed the moan in the back of this throat.

“Bones...” Jim shifted again, his eyes falling closed, while the firm line of his mouth relaxed. Watching Jim lick his lower lip, not once, but twice, Leonard knew this was the invitation he'd been waiting for. Leonard’s heart pounded against Jim’s chest, and the closeness of him was wreaking havoc on his insides. Hitching his leg to the side, creating friction they both could appreciate, Leonard leaned his head forward.

The sound of the door lock beeping had them springing apart like two horny teenagers caught in a dark basement. Their chests were heaving, skin flushed on their unshaven faces, and Leonard's hair was in disarray. Both men tried to adjust themselves to be somewhat presentable, but it didn't matter, they looked as guilty as sin.

David McCoy opened the hotel room door, stopping short before coming all the way in. He eyed the two men up and the damage they had caused to the room, then eventually settled his gaze on Leonard's hair. Smiling, he let the door close behind him.

Leonard, mortified and appalled, decided to meet his father's scrutiny. "A knock would've been nice."

David stepped further into the room to examine the broken table a little more closely. "Came to make sure I wouldn't have to sell the house for the damage deposit. You two done?"

Jim had the audacity to laugh, but then that was who Jim was. He wiped his hand on his jeans before offering it to Leonard's father. "Good to see you again, David."

"James," he said, and winked at his son. "I trust you're well?"

"I am," Jim said. "It was good to catch up with Bones. Thank you."

"That's what they're calling it these days?" David snorted. "Well, it's 'bout time you two quit goin' 'round your asses to get to your elbows."

Leonard rolled his eyes at his father, waving a hand at him in irritation. "See?" he said to Jim, momentarily forgetting all that just happened. "I told you he was the mayor."

Ever the opportunist, Jim started toward the door. "I hate to leave, David, but I've got things to do."

"This isn't finished, Jim!" Leonard called after him.

Turning briefly, his cheeks flushed a deeper shade as he gave one last glance toward Leonard. "Damn right, Bones," he said, and then he was gone.

 


	6. =/6\=

Although San Francisco was well underway with its repairs, it would be a long time before it got back to the way it was before the wrath of Khan. The city no longer had the buzz Leonard associated with it, the kind that thrived on people’s energy, and their assuredness. San Francisco was a hub for arrogance and drive that fed off the city’s Starfleet inhabitants. Now, it was a city teeming with trepidation and sorrow. Leonard felt its unease, and it did nothing to help his nerves.

With no sleep and no other communication from Jim, Leonard left his room at sunrise while his father slept. He spent the dawn walking to clear his head, eventually making his way to the temporary location of Starfleet headquarters. He was somewhat relieved by the new surroundings. It made it easier to be back without the familiarity of the past. It wasn’t hard to miss the heightened security all over the city, especially Starfleet. The planet was changing. Maybe Leonard’s father had been right about the facade of Starfleet. Then again, the late Admiral Marcus’ agenda was proof enough without all the new security checkpoints.

“Sir,” one of the officers stopped Leonard before he could go through the security gate, “I’m going to need your bag.”

“I’m a doctor,” Leonard said without even thinking. He waved the man off as he would have in the past, and proceeded to the gate. His response had been automatic, like so many times before. He didn't realize what he’d said until a hand shot out to his chest, stopping him mid stride.

“Sir!” the man said, pushing him back. “Starfleet Regulations. All personnel entering the building must register, and surrender their belongings for scanning.”

Well, this was new, he thought, wondering if it was because of his civilian clothing. Leonard handed his bag to the man, and as he threw the bag on the scanner, Leonard grunted, folding his arms to match the man’s stance, and blank stare.

“This way.” The man signaled Leonard to follow him to the DNA scanner. “Place your hand on the pad.”

Things had definitely changed in two months. Leonard couldn’t recall ever having to go through this kind of song and dance before, but he did what he was told, and resisted the smartass retort resting on his tongue.

The man studied the screen, his eyes narrowed, then he held out his hand. “Orders.”

“Well, you’ve got all that now, don’t you?” Leonard said, rolling his eyes, pointing to his bag going through the scanner. “It’s in there. I’m here for a meeting with the admirals in Archer Hall, Room D.”

The second security officer reached for the bag, searching through it without any respect for his belongings.

“Hey! Careful with that.” Leonard moved to reach for the bag, but was slammed chest first up against the wall. “All right. All right. Calm down,” Leonard said, not struggling and accepting his fate. This day was already testing him, and he’d be a damn fool to let these barbarians haul him into a holding cell to make him miss his hearing.

“Just comm the Admirals’ general office,” Leonard said with his mouth pressed to the wall. “I’m here at their orders.”

“Let him go, gentlemen,” Leonard heard from behind him, and cursed under his breath.

“And you are?” the man’s grip tightened on Leonard's wrists, and he couldn’t help the grunt that came with the twinge.

“Captain James T. Kirk. And this man is with me. Let him _go.”_

Leonard hadn’t heard from Jim since he’d hastily ducked out of the hotel room. Sleep had evaded Leonard the entire night, tossing and turning, worrying about today and what Jim might have been meddling in, but mostly, he scrutinized over every single detail of their earlier exchange. He had waited a long time to taste Jim, and how things went down last night was not the way he’d imagined, or wanted. Everything was left up in the air, and Leonard didn’t think it would ever be made right, that it might be brushed over by Jim, and not be given a second thought. Jim never admitted feeling anything in return, and that kept him awake until the sun came up.

“Hey, Jim,” Leonard said, rolling his eyes. He was sure Jim was holding back a laugh, even if it didn’t seem that way to the security officers, but Leonard knew Jim, and knew he was finding his predicament immensely funny.

“Apologies, Captain. He wasn’t very cooperative,” the man holding Leonard said, then released his grip.

“He rarely is,” Jim said, and Leonard definitely heard the humor that time. Leonard rolled his shoulders, pulling his shirt down with a huff. He didn’t bother looking at Jim, instead, he strode through the gate, picked up his bag, and kept walking.

Jim was stalled momentarily, having to go through the checkpoint as well, but eventually he caught up.

“I don’t need your help, Jim,” Leonard said, more irritated by Jim’s sudden departure last night than he cared to admit.

“Stop being such a stubborn ass. I said I’d stay out of it unless there was a need for me to step in.”

“And this is you staying out of it?”

“Believe it or not, yes. I’m here for moral support, Bones.” Jim slapped him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger as they walked. Leonard wanted to shrug it off, but the warmth was a comfort to him as they entered the building.

As they turned the corner, continuing to head down the long hallway, Leonard noticed a young man with the fashion sense of a colorful duck at the end of the corridor.

“Don’t get mad, Bones, but I _do_ want you to meet someone.”

“Funny,” Leonard grunted, “and I thought you said you were staying out of this.”

“Dr. McCoy?” the young man said, extending his hand. “I’m Samuel Cogley, Jr. Your appointed counsel.”

Leonard raised his eyebrow at Jim. “I wasn’t aware I needed counsel.”

“After my discussion with the captain last night, I think it would be prudent to have counsel present.”

“And I thought this was a closed hearing?” Leonard asked.

"It is, but I'll be present before and after the proceeding, and since you're technically no longer a member of Starfleet, I am allowed to represent you."

"No uniform?" Leonard looked him up and down.

“I am not a member of Starfleet, per se,” Cogley stated, “although I am afforded special privileges when the occasion arises.”

Cogley led them through the doors into an open hallway with marble floors, and paintings of sweeping landscapes from planets across the galaxy hanging on the walls.

“How do you know the captain?” Leonard asked, eyeing the young man with the straight-back shoulders, and deep dimples in his cheeks. He couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy he felt when he looked at his fresh face. He was wearing an orange jacket, which helped to detract from the glare of his bright, green shoes. The kid smelled of rich aftershave, and Leonard wondered why, since it was apparent he wasn’t old enough to be shaving.

“Wait, how old are you?” Leonard asked.

Cogley chuckled, giving Jim a glance over his shoulder. “I see you weren’t embellishing.” Leonard grunted, and Cogley directed his attentions back to him. “I’m twenty-six, sir.”

“Is that right?” Leonard mumbled a few choice words under his breath, something about his luck with baby-faced youngsters. He seemed to always surround himself with the perpetual youth. “You any good?”

The kid blushed, looking at those god-awful shoes. When he finally raised his head, he stared Leonard in the eyes with a surety that was hauntingly familiar to Leonard.

“With all due respect, Doctor. You don’t get to where I am at my age without being good. I think you can understand that.”

Leonard knew that truth all too well, and he respected the kid for calling him on his bullshit. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Samuel’s father and my mother are old friends,” Jim interjected. “I’ve known him awhile, Bones. You can trust him.”

Cogley handed Leonard a data PADD, filling him on his rights and what he could expect from the hearing. They discussed his best course of action, but without knowing the details of the proceedings, none of them knew what to expect.

“James has filled me in on his actions and yours. I can assure you, you have my confidence in all matters.”

“He knows what you did for me, Bones. I told him.”

“So much for Fleet Admiral Morrow’s directive. You could be court-martialed for that, Jim. Cogley’ll be representing you soon if you can’t keep your trap shut.” Leonard turned away from the two of them, avoiding the severe looks on their faces. He knew this hearing wouldn't be good news, he'd already received his slap on the hand months ago, and the closer he got to the double doors, the more it started to feel like a death sentence.

“Bones...” Jim sighed. “We’re just trying to help. I contacted everyone who owed me a favor, but no one had any info on this hearing, not even Barnett. Apart from me going directly to Morrow—"

"Jim, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't," Jim said, his voice filled with exasperation which made Leonard think someone had already stopped him from that course of action. Jim took hold of Leonard's shoulders, gripping them tight. They stayed like that for a few long breaths, connected by so much more than just touch. Leonard didn’t want to enjoy the feel of Jim’s hands, it was distracting, and he didn't have time to revel in any kind of affection from Jim. It was too much to hope for, endearing or not.

"Okay?" Jim asked.

"Okay." Leonard pulled away, but not before giving Jim's wrists a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"After this, we're going to finish what we started last night, Bones." Jim grinned, and it went straight to Leonard’s gut. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

The double doors opened, and someone from inside called Leonard's name.

"In that case..." Leonard shook his head, scoffing at Jim, and then laughed, "...let's get this over with."

"I'll be right here, Bones."

=/\=

“State your full name and rank for the record.”

There were three admirals present for the tribunal: Liu, Cartwright, and another man by the name of Reed, whom Leonard had never seen before. They were sitting slightly elevated from where Leonard sat, enough they were looking down at him with imposing eyes. It didn’t bother Leonard, this wasn’t his first rodeo, but Reed was new to him, and that did make him wary.

He’d had many dealings with Starfleet Admiralty. Saving Pike’s life, and being Jim Kirk’s friend and confident, meant there was a level of notoriety he couldn’t avoid, and with it, came dinners and meetings with as many high ranking officials in Starfleet when they were planetside. Admiral Cartwright he’d met, even Liu he’d recognized, but this Reed fellow was a mystery. The man had only asked him to state his name, but already Leonard knew he wasn’t going to take kindly to him.

“Dr. Leonard McCoy,” Leonard said, making sure not to roll his eyes. “And I have no rank. You people saw fit to take it from me.”

Leonard expected a reprimand from one of the admirals, but Cartwright continued as if Leonard hadn’t spoken at all.

“McCoy, we’re holding this hearing behind closed doors because of the sensitive nature of this enquiry.”

Cartwright’s insistence not to use his title was another way to put him in his place, and his indifference was starting to rankle Leonard, enough that he couldn’t hold back from speaking his mind. “You mean ‘cause I brought a man back from the dead?”

“Is that what you did?” Admiral Liu asked. It was a leading question and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why there was this hoop-jumping going on.

“Excuse me, Admirals, but my cow died last night, so I don’t need your bull. You’ve all read the report, and know damn well what happened.”

Admiral Liu, sitting to the left of Cartwright, was as uptight as the put together bun sitting atop her head. Her face was pinched, and she didn’t seem any more pleased to be speaking to Leonard as he was speaking to her. Liu bristled at his brash and informal talk. It was the most he’d gotten out of any of them since he’d stepped foot through the double doors. It was a small victory for Leonard he’d be sure to celebrate later.

“You’re absolutely right, McCoy,” Cartwright stepped in. “This hearing is not to discuss what you did, but how you did it. It’s also to convene about your reinstatement of rank within Starfleet."

Leonard hadn't been expecting that bit of news. He stood, addressing the admirals with a determined voice. "Sirs, it's my understanding that only the Fleet Admiral can restore my rank. And last I looked, he's not here. I'd like to speak with Admiral Morrow, if that's all right with the three of you."

"Denied, McCoy," Liu said. “This committee has been appointed by the Admiral to determine your terms of service.”

“McCoy, it's been one hundred and five Earth days since the _Enterprise_ and its crew took down the terrorist, John Harrison," Cartwright said. "Also known as one, Khan Noonien Singh. During that operation, information came to light that Admiral Alexander Marcus, former Fleet Admiral, was a member of a clandestine organization called Section 31. Is this correct?”

“It’s in my report,” Leonard said, but his voice didn’t display the confidence he was hoping.

“I’m asking you now,” Cartwright said. “Can you tell this committee what you know about Section 31?”

"Not much. Like I _said_ in my report," Leonard said through gritted teeth. "I wasn't at the meeting with Captain Kirk and Commander Spock when Marcus assigned the _Enterprise_ its mission to Kronos. What I know would be hearsay."

"This isn't a trial, McCoy," Cartwright said. "It's a fact finding hearing, nothing more."

“Since when is hearsay taken as fact?” Leonard said.

Leonard wasn't trying to be difficult, not purposefully anyway. The truth was, he didn’t know much about Section 31. Jim hadn’t been forthcoming with Leonard about their mission at the time. He’d been kept out of Jim’s inner circle—which Leonard still held a grudge over—and had only been called upon when Khan’s blood came into question. His debriefings had included everything he knew about the super-blood, including his recommendation to Starfleet that the seventy-two super humans with the same genetic makeup as Khan be kept on ice...indefinitely. As far as he knew and hoped, the cryotubes were locked safely away in some top-secret facility.

“Section 31 is beyond my pay grade, sirs,” Leonard said to cut the tension.

“We’re just trying to get to the bottom of what happened,” Cartwright said. “We’ve read dozens of confidential reports all stating the same thing: Captain James T. Kirk suffered from lethal radiation poisoning. He died aboard the _Enterprise_ , yet somehow, the man lives. It’s quite the story, or should I say miracle?”

Leonard’s stomach churned. It always did whenever the words Kirk and death were uttered in the same sentence. Jim was medically, and possibly, legally dead. Leonard had called it himself. He never worried about the rumors Jim’s resurgence would bring about. He’d never officially recorded his death in his medical logs, so it had been easy for Starfleet to dispel the handful of reports from the leaks aboard the _Enterprise_. This hearing wasn’t about those disclosures though; it was too desperate for that. This committee wanted the serum Leonard had synthesized, particularly the formula Leonard had omitted from his reports. He knew these assholes wanted to taste what it meant to play God.

“Should I just keep repeating myself?” Leonard asked. “It’s in my report.”

“It’s not though, is it?” Liu snapped.

"I divulged all of my records as requested, as well as the procedures I used."

“Not to our satisfaction,” Liu said. “You purposely left out key elements in your modus operandi, didn’t you?”

"What can I say? Maybe I gave the bottle an extra shake." Leonard held up an imaginary test tube between his fingers. "Guess I got lucky, or maybe it was that miracle you mentioned."

Leonard wondered if they were going to admit they'd tried to replicate his work. He didn’t think they would, but Liu had just laid their cards on the table. The inquiry part of this hearing was over, Leonard could see it in Cartwright’s eyes. He was finished with his two-stepping, and was about to get down to the real reason they were here.

“You are tasked to replicate the serum, and head a research team for potential uses of the serum and its effectiveness,” Cartwright said to Leonard. “You’ll have full access to whatever you need, and you’ll be handsomely rewarded for your efforts with a full commission, too.”

“You damn people seem to be forgetting I no longer work for you.”

“It has been decided by this committee to restore you, Leonard McCoy, to your former rank of Lieutenant Commander, effective immediately.”

Leonard felt his blood pressure rise, his anger turning over on the tip of his tongue. “How convenient.”

“After a period of evaluation, the Medical Board has also decided to re-instate your medical license.” Leonard would be lying if those words didn’t give him a thrill of anticipation. He didn’t give a damn about Starfleet and ranks, he just wanted to practice medicine again, but he was missing the connection in all of this.

“And how is it you know this?" Leonard asked. "Last I checked, the Medical Board operates outside of Starfleet regulations.”

“You have been re-assigned to Starfleet Intelligence, and will be briefed tomorrow morning on your new position.”

“Starfleet Intelligence?” His elation at the re-instatement vanished. It felt as though the floor had been ripped out from under him. His mouth turned dry, all moisture seemed to be pool to his palms, and he could feel his eyebrows shoot sky high, touching his hairline. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

“I assure you, Lieutenant Commander, there is no ‘shitting’ involved.” Cartwright didn’t even break a smile.

“I’m about as suited to S.I. as an Orion is to a monogamous relationship. It just won’t work. I’m not your man for this,” Leonard said.

“You will report for duty tomorrow at 0800.”

“I’m not your man for this!” Leonard repeated, this time through clenched teeth, slamming his hand on the table, and rising from his chair. "And what if I refuse?" he yelled. "I’d like to remain discharged, dishonorably, if that’s the case.” Leonard didn’t mention anything about his medical status, hell, he’d give that up too to avoid this mess, but he wasn’t going to throw it on the table willingly.

“If you refuse, you’ll be put in contempt of the Federation,” Reed finally spoke up. He'd been silent up until now, observing Leonard without expression to the point of unnerving him. There was something behind the stone cold mask, but his words were aloof when he spoke, like this was an everyday occurrence, and Leonard's protests were one of many.

“So, you’re saying I don’t have a say in whether or not I’d like to be re-instated,” Leonard said to Reed.

“Under General Order 44, Section 7, Subsection C, your discharge was dependent upon the discretion of Starfleet until the term of your service was fulfilled. You, Lieutenant Commander, still have three years left of service.” Reed smiled at Leonard, but it was dark and disturbed. “You didn’t read the fine print of your conditions of release."

“What conditions?” Leonard felt a growing pit in his stomach. He didn’t like where this was heading, but it was Liu who continued, not Reed.

“If Starfleet requires the skills possessed by a discharged officer, said officer may be called back into service without regards to previous rank, position or assignment.” Liu, the ol’ pinched face bat, had spoken in that clipped, birdlike voice of hers. She was sitting on her high horse up there, knowing she had Leonard under her thumb, ready to squash him. “Be thankful we’re returning you to Lieutenant Commander, _Doctor._ ”

They had no trouble using his titles now, he thought. He hated these goddamn games. He was starting to realize this was essentially a prison sentence. This General Order 44 was another way to force his hand into doing whatever they wanted. They had him over a barrel on a technicality.

“You’re telling me, I’m the only capable being in all of Starfleet to do this kind of research? There are no other doctors who can do what you’re asking—no, ordering—me to do? I’m sure there are a dozen doctors who’d give their eye teeth to work on something like this. But I sure as hell ain’t one of them.” He waited for any of them to respond, when none of them did, his temper got the best of him. He all but growled his sentiments. “It seems to me, you need better recruitment standards!”

“Dr. McCoy, there are plenty of skilled physicians and scientists in Starfleet currently assigned to the Genesis Project,” Liu said. “But none of them have been able to replicate the serum, and its effectiveness.”

Well, sonuvabitch, Leonard thought. _Genesis Project?_ Goddamn bastards. They were doing it. They were already working on a way to reproduce the serum. He should have known this business with Khan wasn’t over like they’d all been led to believe in their debriefings. Those seventy-three human popsicles were meant to be locked away, never to resurface again, and here they were running experiments on them.

“You’re working with Khan’s blood.” Leonard said it under his breath, but his intention was unmistakable. “To what goddamn purpose?” he asked, raising his voice. “Are you creating more super soldiers? Like those frozen time bombs weren’t enough of a disaster? Are you trying to start a war just like Marcus wanted?”

“War is inevitable, McCoy. We need to be prepared,” Liu said.

“War is never inevitable! You sound just like him. You’re trading one mad man for a whole fleet of them. I’ll have no part of this damn mess you’re creating.”

“You will!” she barked.

Reed fixed Liu a calculated stare. Sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed, Liu’s face turned red, like a child who’d been scolded for speaking out of turn. It was then Leonard realized, Reed was the man running this show, even if he didn’t need to speak.

“Dr. McCoy,” Reed said, his voice much softer than Liu’s, “an attack was made on Starfleet. Decimated not only the archives in London, but crippled headquarters, here in San Francisco. How can Starfleet protect the Federation if it can’t even protect itself?”

“Last I recall, Starfleet’s not meant to be protecting anyone. That’s not its primary directive. And letting mad men with god complexes run around in Starfleet is what put us in this mess in the first place. No one is meant to have that kind of power.”

“You are certainly right, Doctor, but regardless, there are men and women who do. We need to be ready, and you will make us so,” Reed said, then deferred to Cartwright.

“Lieutenant Commander McCoy,” Cartwright said, “you will report for duty as ordered at 0800 tomorrow morning.”

Leonard refused to accept this. “I possess no rank,” he said with a locked jaw. “You can all go to hell! I won't be a part of this.”

“Lieutenant Commander McCoy, I hold you in contempt. Security!” The side door swung open, and two men dressed in black from head to toe entered the room. Cartwright motioned to the guards. “Place the Lieutenant Commander under arrest.”

Leonard was manhandled, his arms shoved behind his back, as he was led toward the entrance, and hauled through the double doors where he came face to face with Jim who’d been waiting outside. The confusion on his face matched how Leonard was feeling.

“Bones!” Jim made a move toward the guards, ready to peel their hands off Leonard. “What’s happening?”

“Stand down, Captain,” one of the guards said.

“Jim, find my dad. Tell him what’s going on. He won’t understand.” Jim knew all about David’s abhorrence for Starfleet, so he would appreciate how important it was to Leonard to reassure his father he was okay before he went and did anything they’d all regret.

Leonard dug his heels in, trying to slow the guards down enough to have a quick conversation with Jim, but they weren't against dragging him where they needed to go.

“What is this, Bones?” Jim stopped trying to pull Leonard free, instead, he matched their pace. "What's the charge?"

“Insubordination. The bastards. Didn’t Pike always say this would happen to me one day?” He couldn’t stop the laugh that surfaced. He wanted Jim to laugh with him, smile at him like Leonard was an idiot, and this was a misunderstanding that would be resolved within hours, but the distress in Jim’s eyes left him hollow inside. Leonard was pushed through another set of doors that Jim was denied access to.

“Bones, my promise sticks. I’ll get you out!”

 


	7. =/7\=

Leonard had never spent time in a holding cell. It was surprising considering all of the stupid things he’d done in his life. When he smuggled Jim aboard the _Enterprise,_ he’d braced himself for the possibility of a few months in one, and now that he was here, it wasn’t what he imagined. Sterile and bright he knew, but the silence was more than he bargained for and only compounded his isolation.

With no frame of reference for time, Leonard wasn’t sure how long he’d been incarcerated. From his growling stomach, it must have been a few hours at least. Sitting on the hard bench jutting from the wall, his thoughts raced around and around, jumping from one scenario to the next trying to come up with a solution to get out of this disaster.

It was a setup. The closed hearing with only three admirals present—the ones who’d more than likely been loyal to Marcus—and the ominous letter, he should have been better prepared. But hindsight was just that, and now that he had all this time to scrutinize over their actions, he realized his predictable temper had been part of their plan as well; a goal if things didn’t work out in their favor. If Leonard hadn't been willing to help them, they’d force his hand. Throwing him in the brig for insubordination wasn’t a stretch. During his Academy days, Leonard was no stranger to questioning authority; a fact Starfleet had reprimanded him on a dozen or so times. Even Pike had warned him to keep his mouth shut on a few occasions.

For the first time since joining Starfleet, Leonard felt uneasy about his position. He’d always counted on Christopher Pike to look out for him, firstly, because he was Jim’s friend, then as the man who had saved his life and given him the use of his legs. Pike had been their buffer when things got too heated in command. Without him, Leonard felt vulnerable, and unsure of the outcome of his predicament.

It was a charge of insubordination, meaning they couldn't keep him indefinitely, a few months if he remembered his regulation book correctly. He’d get a court martial, which Leonard didn't care about, he'd accepted his dismissal months ago. Those bastards could take their rank and shove it up their—

“McCoy!” the guard yelled. “You have a visitor.”

It was the kid lawyer, the one who was a day late, and a dollar short. Leonard stood up from the uncomfortable bench, folding his arms as Cogley came into his cell.

“Dr. McCoy,” he greeted him.    

Leonard didn’t return the sentiments, only raised an eyebrow in expectation.

“Your father is well,” he said cautiously. “He is with the crew of the _Enterprise_.” Cogley turned his back toward the camera in the corner of the cell.

“That's somewhat comforting."

Out of his colorful jacket, Cogley pulled what looked like an old, twentieth century fountain pen. He clicked the top of it, and put it back in his pocket. “We can speak freely now, but we don’t have much time. Mr. Chekov is quite brilliant. James certainly likes to collect gifted friends.”

Leonard raised both eyebrows.

“We have sixty seconds before they realize we’re not transmitting. The hearing, as you’ve probably deduced, was a fabrication. It wasn’t going to matter what you did or said. The outcome was inevitable if you refused to help them. Section 31 wants you working on the Genesis Project.”

“I thought I was to report to S.I. How do _you_ know about Section 31?”

“We don’t have time for that.” He dismissed Leonard’s question. “Section 31, although still a part of Starfleet Intelligence, has become somewhat of a rogue organization. It was created to protect the security interests of the Federation, specifically in times of extreme threat. It was deemed necessary, and explored further after the Kelvin’s destruction, and even more so after the Narada’s.”

“Let me guess, someone new has picked up Marcus’ reins.”

“Some of Section 31’s agendas do have merit, but not everyone believes in everything they do.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Cogley looked at his timepiece. “The philosophy behind Starfleet Intelligence will have to wait. Dr. McCoy, you destroyed the only viable serum along with all of the data used to create it. You’re the only one who’s been able to replicate, and synthesize Khan’s blood. The _only_ one. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I’m guessing you represent other interests who are hoping it stays that way, even though these assholes think otherwise,” Leonard said with a sober expression.

“It must. You cannot give them what they want.”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed, thinking about the steps he had taken to create the serum. He knew exactly why everyone had failed, too. Hell, he’d failed twenty-seven times before realizing what he needed to do in order to solve ‘certain problems.’ Problems like stabilizing the genetic polymorphism that kept occurring every time he mixed Jim’s blood with Khan’s. The dead tribble was easy, a dead human not so much; there were too many variables. Leonard wanted Jim to come back as Jim, not some mutated version of him with homicidal tendencies.

Leonard had cheated to solve that particular problem, and he doubted any of the doctors and scientists working on Genesis would come to the same hypothesis he had. None of them were desperate enough, not like Leonard had been.

God help them all if they were.

He had been a fool to think there wouldn’t be consequences to his actions. His grandmother used to preach to her grandchildren about the McCoy’s and their tempers, most especially to Leonard. She always schooled him about fools rushing into anger, that it was a wise man who kept his control. Leonard had been furious with Jim, Khan, with Marcus, hell, he’d been mad at everyone who’d offered a warm touch and a simple condolence about the captain. It wasn’t so much as not being able to accept Jim’s death; it had gone beyond that reasoning. Leonard had been a man on a mission, frantically needing to prove to Jim, and everyone else around him, that he was better than death, that he was the one person who could defy it, all for a goddamn broken heart. He had known the risks, and damned them anyway, only thinking about having Jim by his side again in whatever capacity he could formulate.

Jim was alive, but at what cost? Leonard had rushed into the cure without knowing the repercussions behind his actions. How many would pay the price for Leonard’s impatience and his recklessness? How much damage had he done with that ‘cheat,’ and more importantly, what was to come?

“I have no intention of giving them anything,” Leonard said.

Leonard caught the kid's sigh of relief. Cogley reached into his pocket for the pen, pushing the top again.

“Dr. McCoy,” he said, all trace of desperation gone from his voice, and replaced with a casual air of professionalism. “There will be a publicized court martial this time, but they can’t keep you in here much longer. At least not if Starfleet wants a media frenzy on its hands, what with all the comms being made on your behalf.”

“I thought you said my father was ‘being handled.’”

“It’s not him, Doctor.” Cogley smiled. “It seems the crew of the _Enterprise_ are rather passionate about their CMO.”

“Former,” Leonard added.

“Yes, of course,” Cogley said, then raised his voice for the cameras. “I apologize, Dr. McCoy, but more than likely you’ll have to spend the night. We should have you out tomorrow morning.” Even Cogley didn’t seem convinced by his own statement. “It seems someone high up in the chain of command wants you to sit tight a while longer. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Leonard could only grunt in response.

“I did manage to get you some reading material to pass your time. The PADD has been wiped apart from what you require, and it is not networked. I was told a medical journal would suffice? It’s a month old, but the best I could manage.” He held Leonard's eyes, and there was a message there, but it was anyone's guess as to what it was.

“That’ll do just fine," Leonard said, nodding as he took the offered PADD.

“Also...James wanted me to pass on a message.”

There was a flutter in Leonard's stomach at Cogley's words. As much as he hated what was happening, and hated that his actions could be the cause of something much graver than anything Marcus could have dreamt up, he didn’t regret Jim’s beating heart, and never would.

Cogley's expression was filled with mirth as he relayed Jim's message. “James said, 'Incarceration is more his thing. If you were getting cold feet you could have been a little less extreme.'" Cogley's face flushed a deep scarlet as he reached for Leonard's hands holding the PADD. "James also said you'd understand his thing about no-win scenarios and standing by his words."  He squeezed Leonard's hands, and held his gaze like before, but the meaning still eluded Leonard.

“My time is up, Dr. McCoy,” Cogley said, placing his hand on Leonard’s shoulder. “I particularly find the article about Vulcan physiology quite...fascinating.”

The force field dissolved as he neared the door, then reappeared when he stepped beyond it. He gave Leonard one last thoughtful look before leaving.

Leonard sat on the bench wondering if this was where he was supposed to sleep, or if he was going to be taken elsewhere. He hadn't figured out where he was supposed to expel his body fluids, either. The walls of his cell were bare, shiny white, and smooth with bright lights overhead that gave the eyes no rest. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since early morning at the hotel. He’d be damned if he was going to ask one of these bastards for anything. He’d been through worse. He could wait until tomorrow when Jim pulled all of his strings to get him released.

Jim still had friends in command, friends of Pike’s who would be looking out for him now that he was gone. He could handle one night in a cell.

Leonard thought about the three admirals who had been present in the room, especially the silent observer, Reed. He wished he’d paid attention the times Jim dragged him along to dinners where he rubbed elbows with the brass, and now he was left wondering if he’d come across the man with the imposing presence and the face made of stone. Leonard couldn’t recall hearing his name. The man had appeared out of nowhere, which, if he had anything to do with Section 31 might be the case.

Leonard was feeling the gravity of his state of affairs. Starfleet Intelligence was an ominous force most cadets were either in awe of, or feared. Being a doctor, Leonard had never given that branch of Starfleet much thought, but he was in the center of their bull's-eye now, and felt trepidation sink in.

Cutting off all contact with Jim was probably not the wisest decision he had made these past few months. Jim was a dreamer, but he was also a realist, skeptical by nature. His shady upbringing meant he was suspicious of everything. Leonard was too, but not like Jim. He saw sneak attacks coming well before they happened. He was the ultimate strategist, and if Leonard had just told him about the hearing when the letter arrived, he might not have been blindsided like this. Jim would’ve had a plan. He always had a plan, even when there was no possible plan to be had.

If there was one thing Leonard could count on in this life, it was that Jim Kirk would move galaxies, and reposition planets in order to help someone he cared about in trouble. Leonard just hoped he didn’t go overboard, and do something stupid like risk his command for Leonard. It was wishful hoping on Leonard’s part. James Kirk didn’t do anything half-assed, which meant he was probably making waves at command at this very moment.

Leonard picked up the PADD to give his thoughts a rest. He read this edition last month, but he could peruse the articles again, anything to keep the guilt and anger at bay, and satisfy his boredom for a spell. He scrolled through until he found the one on Vulcan physiology. It was interesting at least, and perhaps useful if he ever found himself working with a Vulcan again.

As he read, he noticed there were some glitches in the PADD. The pages were skewed, paragraphs not aligned perfectly, and there were a few words tossed in random sentences. Anyone reading it for the first time might not notice it, but Leonard had read this one, and it was error free when he had. He found it off-putting, annoying him enough to set the PADD aside, deciding it wasn’t worth the frustration when he was already on the precipice of exasperation.

He was leaning against the wall, head resting back with one knee bent, and his arm draped over it. He started to tap his head gently against the wall. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, a lulling rhythm that kept his thoughts from wandering too far to Jim, and what he could possibly be doing right now. Deep in thought, the tapping became more persistent, until the faint echo of a thought seemed to jolt him into consciousness.

Cogley had been trying to telegraph something. He had squeezed Leonard's hands as he held the PADD and emphasized that one article.

The random words weren’t random.

Grabbing the PADD, he scrolled through it again. There must be a pattern to the words, he just needed to figure it out. Knowing Jim like he did, the message would be easy for Leonard to discover, but hidden for S.I. and not too suspicious. Jim always had been a master hacker, and the notion that Leonard was given the luxury of a PADD with old articles to read wasn’t a coincidence.

Leonard found the first odd placed word: _Bones_. Of course, that was Leonard’s first clue. The word wouldn’t be out of place in a medical journal, but when the article had nothing to do with Vulcan osteology it would. The next misplaced word was a pronoun, ‘ _you’re,_ ’ which had no business in a scientific paper. Once Leonard knew what to look for, there weren’t as many words as he originally thought, in fact, they were few and far between.

The next few random words Leonard came across were: _going_ and _to._ He had difficulty finding the one that came after that. It took him three passes, and he found another couple of words, but not the phrasing he needed—the one that should come next. However, he did find: _don’t_ and _fight._ The contractions Jim was using were a dead giveaway, but there was still more to the message.

He started back at the top again, meticulously dropping in all of the simple and colloquial words into the phrase, ‘you’re going to,’ and looking for the subtle difference in font size, knowing that if he made it to ‘don’t’ in the article, he had the next part of Jim’s message.

When he found it, his hands trembled, and his mouth went dry. It was difficult to breathe with his blood pumping in his ears, and his heart beating double time. He knew what fear felt like, he’d tasted it many times, and this was no exception. Scrolling down to the bottom of the article, he looked for anything else, any advice Jim may have given him. And then he saw it, the reassurance in three little words. With fear clenched tightly around his chest, Leonard smiled.

_Bones you’re going to be taken don’t fight don’t give up I’ll find you_

 

 

 


	8. =/8\=

They came in the dead of night.

There were three of them, none of whom Leonard recognized. He’d been too wound up to sleep, so he was ready when the force field to his cell was lowered. Slowly standing, Leonard surrendered, arms raised in the air without a word. They weren’t rough with him, but they weren’t gentle, either. They wrenched his hands behind his back, securing them in metal bands, and placed a black, mesh bag over his head. The lack of food and water had caught up to him, so there wouldn't have been much of a fight even if Jim hadn’t warned him.

He should have played the part, protesting and demanding to speak to someone, but he was too tired for a production. Despite his sight being taken from him, his panic was kept at bay by those three simple words from Jim.

_I’ll find you._

Jim was a man who kept his word. Growing up, he'd been let down too many times, so as a man, Jim made sure he didn’t make promises he couldn’t deliver. He never counted on others to keep their word, but Jim held his honor high with pride, and made sure it remained that way. Jim wouldn’t stop until he found Leonard, and that was the only reassurance Leonard needed.

He was shoved into a seat while thick hands worked on fastening him into a harness. He should’ve realized they would transport him elsewhere, but up until this moment, he'd hoped Jim would find him before he set foot on a goddamn shuttle to nowhere.

Now that he was blind, and completely confined, terror was fighting its way to the surface. For all he knew, they were taking him into space to be flushed out of an airlock. His bloated body would be left to forever float in the void of deep space. How would Jim make good on his promise then?

With the black bag over his head, the sense of suffocation was more apparent. Each time he sucked in a breath, the mesh fabric made purchase with his mouth, making it impossible to get a lung full of air. He struggled against the harness, and the metal bindings on his wrists, but strong hands knocked him back, holding him in place.

Since Cogley's visit, no one had spoken to him. He needed someone to say something, even if it was to tell him to shut up, or to berate him, anything to snap him out of this sudden feeling of despair. He pushed against the hands at his shoulders, hoping to hear a voice, but after a few seconds, all he felt was a sharp prick on the side of his neck, followed by the familiar hiss of a tool he knew all too well. The last words he mumbled were not fit for public, and then there was total blackness.

 

=/\=

 

The next time he woke, he was face down on a bare mattress. His mouth felt like he’d been licking sandpaper, and his neck had a terrible crick in it which made him wonder how long he’d been laying there. Turning over, he stretched his arms, looking at his surroundings for a source of water. The room was brightly lit by artificial light, but thankfully, it wasn’t stark white like the last cell. The walls were concrete, and so was the floor. It was laid out differently than the last room. It had a bed at least, with a sink and a small, twenty-second century, stainless steel toilet. Next to that, in the corner was a glassed cubicle stall, which he assumed was a shower.

His feet felt like lead, hell, his whole body did, as he made his way to the sink. He gulped at the water coming from the tap. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d ate or drank anything, so he should’ve been more reserved in his consumption, but he couldn’t help it. He sucked back the cool liquid until he felt full. It was only then he noticed the color of his shirtsleeve.

During his transition to this place, someone had changed his clothing. They’d replaced his civilian clothes with his Starfleet medical blues, complete with restored rank on the sleeves.

“Goddamn bastards,” he muttered, pulling at his sleeve. He removed the blue shirt, leaving the black undershirt on in its place.

He took a turn around the room, looking for a camera, and when he found it, he went and stood in front of it with his arms outstretched, holding the blue uniform.

“Hey, assholes,” he yelled. “Someone want to tell me where I am? Or maybe what I’m doing here against my will?”

He hadn’t expected an answer, and he didn’t get one.

Standing in front of the lens, he didn’t feel the familiar hum of a starship, or feel the slightest trace of movement like he did when he was on the _Enterprise_.  At least that meant he was on a planet, he just didn’t know which one. For some reason he doubted he was still on Earth, even though his surroundings would suggest it. The water sitting heavily in his stomach felt too re-constituted, more metallic than the water on Earth.

Jim probably loved the idea Leonard had been taken off planet. It was more of a challenge that way. Jim could handle space, and other planets much better than he could handle Earth and all its bureaucratic regulations. The unfortunate thing about another planet was the out of commission _Enterprise_ , but Jim hardly would’ve been given permission to use the _Enterprise_ to chase one man, especially if that man was taken by Starfleet Intelligence in the first place.

Leonard balled up the shirt, throwing it in the corner under the camera.

“I can dress myself, thank you very much.”  For a fleeting moment he thought about stripping everything off, but then he already felt exposed, no need to amplify it.

A buzzer sounded, a high-pitched alarm, like the ones he remembered as a kid travelling up the historic locks on his grandfather’s boat. The floor shifted underneath him, and Leonard had to reach for the corner of the bed to steady himself. The room moved sideways, and when it stopped, the door in front of him slid open.

Standing upright with his shoulders back, he waited for someone to enter the room, but after a few minutes of standing still, he realized no one was coming. He wondered if he'd been shoved through an airlock, and this was some sick representation of heaven or hell where he was back in a Starfleet uniform, drinking rusty tasting water.

Beyond the door was a hallway darkened enough that Leonard couldn’t make out what was on the other side. He had nothing to lose by stepping through the door, then again, it could be some Pavlovian conditioning where he’d get zapped if he tried to walk through it.

Picking up his discarded shirt, he balled it up in his fist. Even if he squinted it was too dark to see beyond the ambient light. Stepping to the side of the door, he tossed the shirt through the open space, waiting for some kind of reaction. Overhead lights flickered on, the movement triggering them, and it wasn't a hallway he was looking at, but another room, smaller than the one he was in currently. Inside, there was a chair and a small, metal table, like the ones found at Starfleet Academy mess halls. The walls were as bare and gray as the walls in his room, but the overhead light was harsher.

With his shoulders scrunched up around his ears, he braced for the worst, and took his chance by stepping through the door.

Nothing happened.

He moved closer to the center of the room, then the same buzzer sounded, and the ground beneath him shifted, turning the room until the open door disappeared, locking him inside this new area. Locating the camera in the corner—like the other one—he stood in front of it, arms outstretched.

“You gonna keep me guessing?” He waited less time for an answer, throwing his hands up in the air. Taking a small turn around the room, he noticed the food replicator set into one of the walls. He wondered if he should try it, if he’d be lucky enough it would actually produce food. His growling stomach reminded him of his hunger, and thought it was a good idea.

He punched in a few codes, ones he remembered from being on the _Enterprise_ , and within seconds, the small, paneled doors opened revealing two slices of toast, steel-cut oats with raisins, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee, black. It was just as he always ordered, complete with disposable wooden utensils.

Inhaling the faint trace of cinnamon, and the richness of coffee beans, his body swayed slightly. Apparently it had been a while since he’d eaten.

Raising the tray up to the camera’s eye, he shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you want me to thank you.”

It was all he said, his way of being gracious without having to like it, and without lashing out at whoever sat behind the camera watching him. He wouldn’t have to thank the assholes if they hadn’t kidnapped him, and stuck him in this godforsaken dungeon in the first place.

It was surprising he wasn't more afraid by all of this, but now that he had food to eat, and coffee to drink, he couldn’t help that niggling feeling this was too domesticated, especially for a hostage situation where torture might be on the docket.

The five years he'd known Jim, the most they’d been apart was a month when Jim spent mandatory field experience aboard the _Farragut_ before graduation. They were going on three months now, and there was no end in sight to that separation. The hours the two of them had wasted away over meal times, chatting about nothing in particular was what Leonard missed the most. Jim was brash and impulsive, and usually jacked up on life, so it was hard to get him to sit still, but when he did, Jim was an excellent conversationalist.  He could touch on any subject, and make it an interesting debate for hours at a time. Leonard let Jim pick the topics, and if it wasn’t warp drive technology, or interplanetary politics, it was about some of the command courses he took during their time at the Academy together.

Leonard suffered through many of Jim’s lectures about strategic defenses, and negotiation tactics. He’d even gone into quite the detail about what was expected of a Starfleet officer if taken hostage. Leonard had taken the basics of that course, but since he was on the Medical tract, he didn’t have to suffer the in-depth training like Jim had. However, that never stopped Jim from making Leonard hear all about it.

 

_“Bones, I’m telling you, man, this class should be mandatory for everyone. Especially the medical staff. Don’t you think?”_

_“Like we don’t have enough on our plate, we need to get into the psyche of other cadets? No, thank you. I mend brains, I don’t shrink them.”_

_“It’s interesting. And could come in handy. And you should take some Psych classes if you’re going to be my CMO. They’re a requirement, I checked.”_

_“Psychological trauma is best left to the experts. If I can’t fix it with my hands, I don’t want a part of it. But you’re right about one thing, anyone stuck on a ship with you_ should _have to take Psych classes.”_

_As usual, Jim ignored Leonard’s jibe. “Do you know what happens when someone is taken hostage?”_

_“Yeah, usually torture, then death.”_

_Jim leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on Leonard’s desk, even though he knew it bugged the hell out of Leonard._

_“Is this the start of the torture, Jim?” He pushed Jim’s boots off his desk. “’Cause, I'd prefer a quick death instead.”_

_Jim continued ignoring Leonard, but did manage to keep his feet on the floor. “Do you know the most important things to do in a hostage situation?”_

_“No, but I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”_

_“Well, for one,” Jim continued, “you need to be observant.”_

_“Go figure.”_

_“Notice everything. The sounds of the room in the day and the night, even the smells could help. Check for distinct markings that could give something away as to where you are. Always be aware of your surroundings if you can. That’s just where you’re being held. There’s so much more to observe about your captors.”_

_“Jim, I have no intention of ever putting myself in a situation where this could happen. I’m a doctor. I don’t plan to go on away missions no matter where I’m stationed. I’ll be staying put on solid ground.”_

_Jim just kept barreling through the conversation, as if Leonard wasn’t even in the room. “Boredom. That’s key. Especially if you’re in isolation.”_

_“Check. I’m already living through this stage.”_

_“You have to keep your mind busy, as well as your body active. Plan on being there for the long haul. Establish a routine. If you’re not bound, make sure you exercise. Stretch your muscles, maintain your strength. And eat what you’re given, even if it’s disgusting, or you’re not hungry.”_

_“It’s slightly disturbing that you seem to get off on this shit, Jim. It’s like you want to go through this.”_

_“And the last thing you should remember is to keep your dignity, but don’t provoke your captors.”_

_“You? Not provoke someone? Well, you’re screwed.”_

_“It’s a lot harder if you’re trying to withhold information, but it can be done. You just have to be a good listener. Try to appeal to your captor’s feelings if you can. They also told us not to be antagonistic, it could lead to a longer captivity, or torture. But that’s where I started having issues with what they were teaching.”_

_“Surprise. Surprise.”_

_“As a Starfleet captain, it’s a safe bet you’re going to be tortured, so you might as well show some resistance. Better to send a clear, strong message than a weak one. As for the torture part, well that’s a whole new topic of conversation, which I have an entire section dedicated to—”_

_“Dammit, Jim!”_

_At Leonard’s outburst, Jim finally looked Leonard in the eyes. It was as though he’d only noticed Leonard was in the room with him._

_“Change the topic, or I’m leaving," Leonard said. "I don’t want to hear any more of this.”_

_“Bones,” Jim said, his voice quieter than usual. “You should know this stuff.”_

_“No. No one should have to know this stuff.”_

_“I agree, Bones, but it doesn’t change the fact that it still happens. You need to be prepared.”_

 

When Jim had been talking about being taken hostage, he doubted this scenario would’ve crossed either of their minds. Jim had been adamant Leonard at least read the lecture notes from his classes, and he did, even if he never told Jim he had. All the way through the Academy Jim was subtly, and not so subtly, grooming Leonard. At first, he wasn't aware of what Jim was doing, but eventually he caught on, especially when he wanted Leonard to take a navigational course, and learn how to fly a shuttle...at least the basics anyway. It was one of the ways for Jim to tell him he cared about him. If they weren’t going to be stationed together, Jim wanted to ensure Leonard’s safety, and to make sure he was capable in any situation.

“Dammit, Jim,” Leonard cursed, throwing his spoon in his empty bowl. He truly was an intelligent, clever bastard.

Leonard finished off the last of his coffee and sat back in the chair, cataloguing everything in the room.

 


	9. =/9\=

Leonard was nothing more than a rat in a cage. He was some disturbed being’s experiment, a living, breathing specimen to be observed. This wasn’t Section 31, he had been kidnapped by some alien life forms who imprisoned him here to study him. It was the only thing which made sense, and he would've believed that hypothesis if it weren't for the damn Starfleet uniforms that kept appearing in his room every day.

He was counting days, just as Jim had subtly taught him through the Academy. He was trying to keep a routine, his own routine, but whoever was holding him had established one for him.

 

When he woke on the third morning, he showered, shaved, did his business, the buzzer sounded, and the room shifted to reveal the kitchen area again. He sat quietly while eating his breakfast—a processed omelet this time—and wondered if they were trying to fatten him up before the torture began. When he finished, the room shifted, like the day before, only this time it didn’t turn back to the room with the bed, it revealed another area where he could stretch his legs. It was filled with exercise equipment, everything Leonard would need to keep fit over a long duration. If there was any doubt he was here for the long haul, the treadmill, circuit machines, and weights were enough to prove otherwise.

Eventually his boredom won over his skepticism and he changed into the regulation sweats provided for him. He ran on the treadmill for about an hour, and then lifted some weights until his muscles tired. Jim said exercise was key, and besides, he was amused by the trouble someone had gone to just for him. It wouldn't be long before Jim and his Starfleet contacts straightened this out, and brought up charges against whomever in Section 31 was behind these games.

The exercise allowed him to sweat out his anxiety and frustration like he’d been doing back on the farm. Only this time, a pale-faced Jim didn't consume his thoughts, instead, they were filled with his father, and a flush-faced Jim wondering why the hell Leonard risked what he did to save him.

Three days, and he’d not seen or talked to another soul, which meant he was stuck inside his head. He ran so he didn’t have to think anymore.

When he finished, the buzzer sounded and the room turned again, back to his quarters. He showered, and changed for the second time in the day. There seemed to be an endless supply of fresh towels, and medical blue uniforms in his size, not that he’d dirtied one of those shirts yet. He stuck to the black undershirts, forgoing anything to do with insignia and rank.

Lunch came and went, then the room did its merry-go-round, only this time when it stopped Leonard’s lunch churned in his stomach. If there was any doubt as to who was keeping Leonard, it was wiped away when he laid eyes on the state-of-the-art medical laboratory.

Leonard refused to take a step into the sterile environment, and after an hour of his bullheadedness, sitting at the table with his arms folded, his captors demonstrated their difference of opinion. Noxious fumes were emitted through the vents, and unless he wished to choke on the gas, he was forced to move into the lab. Once inside, the door disappeared, locking him inside with top-notch equipment a doctor could only dream of working with.

He coughed the remnants of the fumes out of his lungs, and then began to laugh.

“You’re gonna have to find a way to force me,” he said. “Torture me for all I care. Hell, you’ll probably have to eventually kill me, ‘cause I won’t lift a goddamn finger to help you.”

He didn’t touch anything, only slumped against the wall daydreaming for the four or so hours they kept him there. He nodded off a few times, but for the most part he was stuck wondering how he was going to get out this, and how the hell was he supposed to observe and learn anything from his captors if they wouldn’t let him hear their voices, or show their goddamn faces?

From the reports he could recall—or that he had been allowed access to—Section 31 had a base in London, but Khan had destroyed that. They also had a spacedock not far from Earth where the _Vengeance_ had been stationed, but that had been confiscated by Starfleet when Spock brought Khan to justice. Wherever Leonard was being held, it was evident this facility had been around for a long time, and was a well-kept secret. It was safe to assume the planning of his confinement had been in the works for some time, and whoever had him wasn’t going to let him go any time soon.

 

At the end of the fifth day, when the room swung back to his quarters after a day of the exact same thing as the day before, he faced the camera, arms folded.

“For the record,” he said, rife with petulance, “I don’t need to shower twice a day, or workout on a full stomach. I’d prefer to exercise when I wake up, then shower, and _then_ eat breakfast.” He folded his arms, looking directly into the eye of the camera. “Got that?”

 

The morning of the sixth day, the buzzer sounded a few minutes after he woke, shifting the room to reveal the gym instead of the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he said, changing into the Starfleet issued sweats. Leonard considered it a small victory...at least somebody was listening somewhere.

 

He did the exact same thing on the seventh day as he did on the sixth.

 

A week into his captivity, his curiosity got the better of him, and he took a turn around the laboratory. It was sterile with components not so very different than what he was used to working with on the _Enterprise_. There were pristine, white counters, and stainless steel sinks, complete with the latest and greatest equipment Leonard had only read about. He thought the _Enterprise_ was ahead of the game, but she had nothing on what was here. Under different circumstances, he’d be thrilled to have access to this kind of equipment.

He catalogued the contents in the large room, mentally taking note of all the chemicals and compounds, and anything that could be used as a weapon. The problem was he had no idea where he was. If he did escape, and made it topside—for there was little doubt he was deep underground—he could be escaping to the surface of a hostile planet, possibly one that didn’t share Earth’s atmosphere. He needed more information, but he wasn't certain how to get it.

 

On the ninth day, he ran until he threw up, dry heaving until his legs gave out, collapsing onto the floor into a pile of rubber limbs and sweat. Leonard stayed there long after the buzzer sounded, and the room pivoted to his quarters. He desperately needed a hot shower. His muscles had seized, and hunger was rearing its ugly head, but he couldn’t make himself get up. The room filled with gas, and the burning vapors pulled him under until he slipped into unconsciousness.

He woke, on what he assumed was the tenth morning—it was impossible to know how long he’d been out—in his bed, with a new set of clothes, and the smell of his body odor fresh and clean. As he rolled over, he found himself smiling. Someone had cared enough about his welfare to clean him up, and put him in his bed. After ten days of being in his head, it was another small victory.

He had taken to marking the wall next to his bed every time he opened his eyes, a tiny scratch made by the ring on his little finger. It was one of the few things he kept of his mother’s, and he was thankful they hadn't taken it. As far as being held hostage, it had been easy so far, nothing too taxing, apart from the solitary confinement. He was well fed, healthy, and provided more comforts than millions across the galaxy. Leonard usually liked his own space, liked not having to complain about the idiocy of people who annoyed him, but ten days of talking to one’s self was starting to weigh on him. This seclusion was a form of torture he hadn't anticipated.

“Okay, Jim," he said to the silence of the room. "Anytime now.”

He lifted himself from the bed, noticing his muscles weren’t as sore as they should have been. He felt the side of his neck, and wondered if they’d hypo’d him. He didn’t want to face the same routine today, but he didn’t want to be gassed again, either. Jim would have broken down the walls by now, taken apart the mechanism operating the doors, and gone to meet his captors face to face. He would have escaped by now, but that was who he was and Leonard was by no means a fighter like Jim.

They had been through a lot together, things no two beings should ever have to go through...twice, but things were different this time. They weren’t fighting a megalomaniac, someone Jim could fight with his fists, and bring to their knees. They were fighting the impossible. They were fighting an army of ghosts. Jim was only a captain, and a captain who was under review, without a working ship. As much as Jim exuded hope when all hope was lost, it was preposterous to think he could get Leonard out of this one.

Leonard pulled at his hair, yelling in frustration until his voice gave out. He knew there would be no response, and there wasn’t. The buzzer sounded, and the room spun. He dressed in his sweats and ran, chasing away his demons as best he could.

 

On day fourteen, Leonard stopped shaving. He didn’t see the point since no one saw him anyway. He’d never grown a full beard, only some questionably long stubble before he joined Starfleet. It was a perfect time to try since he didn’t have Starfleet regulations hanging over him. It took a few days for it to come in thick and dark like the hair on his head, only it was speckled with more gray than he remembered. It made him look older, he thought, as he stared in the mirror brushing his teeth.

Rubbing his jaw, he smiled at himself. “You’d be jealous of this, wouldn’t you, baby-face Jim? You wish you could grow one like this.” He thought of Jim’s lips on his, soft and inviting, but he couldn’t remember exactly what the brief kiss felt like. Leonard braced his arms on the sink when he felt a familiar flush on his cheeks running down to his cock.

“Great. Just great.”

More than two weeks, and he’d managed to avoid any instances like this. The thought had briefly crossed his mind, he was a healthy, young man after all, but the idea of cameras watching his every move, just didn’t turn it up to a level where he needed to take care of things.

His imaginings of Jim with a beard underneath him was enough to put him past that threat level, and into red alert.

“Goddammit, Jim,” he mumbled sitting on the toilet seat with his head in hands. He could take care of this, get in the shower with his back to the door, face the wall, and abandon his dignity for a few rushed minutes. They’d know what he was doing; he just had to decide if he cared.

Nineteen days, and the only voice he’d heard was his own. He was starting to forget. He couldn't recall little things, like the different inflections to Jim’s laughter. There were so many, and mostly they were reserved for Leonard. He had a different laugh when it was just the two of them. It almost always reached his eyes, and somehow they shined a little brighter, if that was possible. He could still hear Jim’s laughter, but the subtle difference of the laugh he saved for Leonard was starting to fade, blending into one.

Leonard pressed his thumbs to his eyes, trying to stop the sting of tears surfacing. He wasn’t ready to cry about any of this, he was healthy, well fed and he was alive, and those bastards watching him could go to hell. He had to trust in Jim like Jim would trust him to hold it together. It was too soon to give in to despair.

"I just want to talk to someone," he said, his voice sounding unfamiliar. At least his melancholy cured him of his arousing predicament. He choked away the thought of tears, and cursed Jim one more time for good measure.

 

Five weeks later, and Leonard still had the beard. It itched like hell, especially while working out, but was one of the few things he could control about his situation. His body had never felt healthier. There were muscles he medically knew existed, but had never experienced. His time in the gym was reserved for meditation of sorts, one of the only times he could shut his brain off from thinking too much, because it was all he did during the other hours where there was nothing to do.

He was running the distance of a half marathon in just over an hour, something he’d never been able to do, or ever wanted to do, not even in his early Academy days. He’d be able to keep up with Jim at this rate, even surpass him, he thought.

Leonard’s body was toned and strong, and it was a damn shame no one was here to share it with him.

There had been a couple of breakdowns, more like anger-fueled outrages. Nothing he did ever got him any responses, not even when he started smashing things in the laboratory. He’d done quite the damage, giving himself a deep cut in the process from a piece of broken glass. He didn’t even have to time to look at the blood, or the glass, his ass was gassed as soon as the red line appeared on his palm. When he woke, the cut was fully healed, and he was back in his bed.

He supposed that answered the question of whether or not he could try to take his own life if it ever got to that stage.

The morning after his destructive rampage, he lay in his bed longer than usual. The smell of fresh laundry was apparent, which meant his sheets had been cleaned while he’d been under. It made him wonder what they did to his body during the duration of his unconscious state. Nothing felt out of sorts, but it did make him question why there hadn’t been any side effects. He was essentially blacking out, which definitely had long-term effects. It also made him wonder why he wasn’t as depressed as he should be. After five weeks with no human interaction, a deep depression should have settled over him, enough that hopelessness would be prevalent in the forefront of his emotions. Not even his faith in Jim, or all the exercise and its endorphins could combat those powerful emotions. It was simple human nature.

He concluded that he was either being hypoed with antidepressants when he was under, or there were some chemical compositions mixed in with his food or water, or it was being vented in the air.

Swinging his legs over the bed, he turned to the camera like he did every morning.

“Hey, assholes,” he said, “you keep gassing me like that, and there’s bound to be some long term effects.”

 

His days went on just like the thirty-eight days before them, except this time, he discreetly shoved a sample of what he’d eaten for breakfast in a napkin, storing it in his pocket.

When the room turned, he hadn’t expected everything in the laboratory to be replaced. All the machines, and testing equipment he’d destroyed had been like he’d never touched them. If he weren't Leonard McCoy, cynic by heart, he would think he’d imagined the destruction he’d caused.

The only difference was a PADD on one of the counters. What the hell, he thought, picking it up. It was something to read, and he’d been denied that for so long. It was filled with the entire research done to date on Project Genesis. They were slowly grooming him, trying to break down his walls, and show the benefits of the project. He couldn't stomach reading it, so he began his own project of sorts.

He started with his blood. Running a sample through the analyzer to see what kind of chemical compositions were rooting through his system that shouldn’t be. While that was working, he looked at the breakfast samples, putting them through a filtration system, and then on to the biochemistry analyzer. It had been a long time since he’d done this kind of ground level testing. At the hospital, and even on the ship, he sent his samples to the lab or had his ensigns do the work. After weeks of doing nothing, it felt good to roll up his sleeves. Whoever was in the control room would be scrutinizing his every move, which meant it wouldn’t be long until he hit the floor if they discovered what he was actually doing.

His blood test revealed he was definitely getting some kind of vitamin and drug-infused cocktail. There were high levels of immune boosters, mixed with the same nutrient compounds prescribed on Starships to combat lack of UV rays, and vitamin D. What troubled him though, were the trace amounts of benzodiazepines and SNRIs in his systems. As far as he knew, those drugs had not been widely used in years. There weren’t high levels, but enough to explain his lack of libido these past few weeks, as well as the reason why his anxiety was at an all-time low. This was how they were combatting depression, by pumping him full of drugs, now he had to figure out how they were doing it.

 


	10. =/10\=

Leonard's breakfast and lunch samples proved inconclusive. If they were dosing him, there had to be a routine to it, regular times he received the dose or there was a risk of overdosing, especially if it was in the water. It couldn’t be when he was gassed, it didn't happen often enough to be effective. This kind of medication had to be taken daily and if possible at the same time each day. If it was being pumped through the vents, he couldn't do anything about it, but something was telling him it was in the food, and the only constant was his coffee every morning.

To test his theory, he skipped his morning cup, even though it meant missing one of the few pleasures he enjoyed about his captivity. He knew the risks involved abruptly stopping the medication they were dosing him with, but he needed to feel again. He didn’t want this forced complacency put upon him. His time here was reaching two months, and he doubted they watched him as carefully. He'd suffer through the withdrawal, and hopefully he would get answers before they intervened.

At dinner, he sat through the motions of eating without enjoyment. His thoughts drifted to his father as they often did, and how he must be handling Leonard's disappearance. He wondered if Jim was driving his body into the ground, while he tried to make good on his promise to find Leonard. The two of them would lean on each other, subtly making sure the other was well cared for. If Leonard truly knew Jim as well as he thought, Jim would be doing everything he could to get Leonard's father through this, just as his father would do the same for Jim.

“I sure hope you’re taking care of yourself,” Leonard said, then ate a mouthful of greens.

Every so often Leonard felt the need to test his voice. It wasn’t that he was afraid he was losing it, more that he was afraid he was losing his hearing. Sometimes it was so damn quiet, a ringing started up in his ears. It got so bad he started talking just to hear something other than the hum of the lights, and the hiss of the pumped in oxygen. He would talk to his father, even his mother, but mostly it was Jim. Just little things he’d point out that reminded him of something they had gone through together.

“You know what I miss the most?” He sat back in his chair, pushing the plate away from him. “Your quarters, and a damn good glass of bourbon. I’m living in a dry county, Jim, and no respectable man from Georgia should ever have to go through that.”

He wanted to believe in Jim, but as each day passed his hoped dwindled with every mark he made on the wall. Now that he had stopped the meds—at least he hoped he had—it wouldn't be long before that well-balanced scale tipped over into despair.

“I’m trying, Jim. I really am, but you need to hurry your ass up.”

 

=/\=

 

There were only so many hours he could sit in the godforsaken lab and do nothing. He ended up reading the research that had been left for him, but only to stave off the boredom, especially now that he wasn't taking a happy-go-lucky cocktail. He was a doctor, damn it, he needed to be useful. He was nothing if he wasn't helping someone. The longer he stayed here on his own, the less of a man he was becoming.

“Are you going to keep me here for-goddamn-ever?” This time he threw a stool at the camera.

He’d read the Genesis report, three times in fact, and with every new pass, Leonard got more irritated.

‘Genesis: a procedure whereby the molecular structure of any given matter can be restructured on the sub-atomic level into life-generating matter of identical mass.’ Essentially Section 31 had tagged it as ‘Life From Lifelessness.’ They'd stolen that right from Leonard's own report, and didn't even bother to cite him. It was just one more thing the bastards took from him.

Leonard knew all about the changes to molecular structures, it was how he had saved Jim, but these assholes weren’t talking about raising the dead. They were talking about genesis on a much larger scale, like planetary.

“Do you have any idea what you’re trying to do?” he asked the camera. “You’re out of your goddamn minds. This is asinine. ‘Genesis Effect,’ my ass. You’re trying to give yourselves the power of universal Armageddon! I won’t be a part of it." His head was pounding, right behind the eyes, and if it wasn't for the perspiration on his forehead and back, he would have attributed the ache to the report, but he knew it was more than that. The symptoms of withdrawal were starting to present themselves, and nothing could help his anxiety.

“I’m never going to do what you want," he said, stopping in front of the camera. "You’re going to have to make me, force me if you’re so inclined.” Maybe they would leave him down here to rot. At this point, Leonard didn’t give a shit. He’d had enough, and he wasn’t going to be their lab rat anymore.

Over and over he wondered why they were doing this to him, why this grand-master-plan of isolation when they could have physically tortured him. He’d welcome being smacked around, a few jolts of electricity, even water torture would break up this monotony. He just wanted to speak to someone, interact with them to find out where he stood in all of this. If he could just see someone face to face, maybe he’d be able to judge what their intentions were, but as it stood, it was possible they’d leave him in here forever, slowly going mad without a soul to speak to for the rest of his life.

Eventually prolonged isolation would cause the mind to breakdown, what he didn’t know, was how long before _his_ would. He was starting to imagine this wasn’t real, that maybe he was still in dreamland from that hypo to the neck when they kidnapped him. A fabrication while he slept peacefully, harnessed in his seat on the shuttle with the black bag still over his head. Or maybe he never woke up at all; an adverse chemical reaction to the drugs. He didn’t believe in heaven or hell, but maybe this was a kind of purgatory, and judgment was waiting to be passed.

When he was directed back to his quarters that night, there was a new towel, and set of clothes for the next day, same size, same colors, same rank.

“This is my _life_!” he yelled. “You can’t play God with it!”

He screamed until his voice went raw, tearing at the clothes until they were tattered in pieces. He slammed his fist into the walls until his knuckles began to bleed. It wouldn’t be long until he heard the hiss of the gas entering his room, but it didn’t happen right away, so he kept going until he had nothing left to give.

Dropping to the floor, he curled into a ball, hoping whoever the hell was on the other end of the camera had an ounce of compassion, and would gas him so he wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep.

 

=/\=

 

Logically, he recognized the symptoms of antidepressant withdrawal and he couldn't do anything about it. He expected it, but it didn't change the fact that his body was in a world of pain.

He felt like shit. There was no other way to describe it. His assumption had been correct, the drugs were in his coffee, and it had been a week since he'd had one. He wasn't sleeping, his nights were filled with vivid dreams if he was lucky, and when he wasn't, they were packed with nightmares. He'd woken up a few times drenched in sweat, neck muscles strained like he'd been screaming, but there had been no sounds. His dreams were always the same: space, filled with darkness and silence, and he was always alone. Sometimes he was floating peacefully, amazed at the views of planets and stars, and then his mind would ascertain there was no oxygen in space, and he'd wake up sucking in a lungful of air that his mind thought wasn't there.

His dreams had him spinning uncontrollably, head over feet, over and over, calling out to anyone to help him, but he kept spiraling out of control until his stomach protested, and when he woke, he lurched over the side of the bed vomiting on the cement floor. He crawled his way to the toilet, lying there until he was sure there was nothing left to expel. The tile was cool against his cheek, but the smell of cleaning products was too strong to lie there for long.

Pushing himself away, he rested in the middle of the room, knees bent with his arms wrapped around them. He didn't want to cry, he wished he could refuse the tears, but they fell against his wishes, soaking his pajama pants.

“What do you want from me?” he was yelling at everyone—at no one. “Someone, anyone, talk to me. Please!"

No one came. No one answered him.

“I just want to talk to someone. I want to touch...I just want to touch.” His voice was raw and unrecognizable.

“Fuck,” he cried. He couldn’t do this anymore. He wanted to find out what would happen if he agreed to what they wanted, if he agreed to work on Genesis. Would someone come to his room, or speak to him? Had they forgotten about him? He just had to know, but every time he tried to say the words, they wouldn’t come.

“Please,” he begged, and he hated how desperate he sounded.

He sat in the middle of the room until the tears stopped, and shivers wracked his body, teeth chattering like they might shatter in his mouth. Somehow he gathered the strength to pull himself back into his bed, and under the blankets.

His sadness was crippling. It snuck up on him, dominating every emotion and pushing them far away. It settled in, and took hold, and the only thing to do was embrace it.

'Sadness has a purpose,' his gran would say to him. 'Life exists in checks and balances; a natural order to the way of things, like good and evil. There can't be one without the other, or everything would just blend into mediocrity. There'd be no highs without the lows, and life's too precious to live without the highs.' She would remind him every time he skinned a knee, or got his heart broken, and all those nights he cried himself to sleep missing his mother. She would tell him, 'Leonard, have your moment, child, for tomorrow the bitterness will have worn off, and the joys of happiness will be so much sweeter for it. Life is a balance, and right now you're allowed to tip those scales.' She would smooth the hair off his forehead, and kiss it gently, then she'd tap his cheek affectionately, and adorn her infamous scowl. 'But only for tonight. Embrace this sadness, little bean, but don't look too closely.'

Sometimes Leonard heard her voice while he lay on his side unable to move from the weight of his sorrow. It whispered in his ear, telling him to go on. 'Sadness has a purpose, but it's fleeting and fitful without any staying power.' He knew that; he was a doctor for crying out loud. He'd been on a first name basis with grief, been surrounded by it his entire life, but this was different. He needed to get up, maybe shower, change his clothes, and eat something that hadn’t been shoved in his veins for the nutrients he desperately needed. But his life wasn’t about balance right now. The scale had tipped too far to the left, and nothing would bring it right side up.

He sunk further into the mattress, ignoring the whispers from his gran, reminding him he was a McCoy, and instead, he welcomed the sadness with open arms, looked it straight in the eye, and decided not to let go.

 

=/\=

 

Leonard never left his bed. They could gas him all they wanted to, but it didn't mean he would follow their rules. It had been days since he showered, and he was starting to smell. His body was protesting the hunger strike, but Leonard didn’t care. At one point he thought he heard the gas enter the room, but everything seemed to meld into waking dreams. He had woken up to fresh clothes, and the smell of lavender on clean sheets, but each time he heard the sound of the buzzer, he rolled over in his bed to face the wall.

He stopped counting the days. Sleep was his new constant, and time passing couldn't be measured anymore. They must have dosed him with nutrients, and the cocktail again while he was under. The feelings of hunger and gloom had lessened, but for all those masked emotions, Leonard was just tired of being a pawn. If they wanted him to get up, someone was going to have to lay their hands on him to get him on his feet.

It wouldn't be long until he lost all the muscle mass he'd so impressively built, and even though his back opposed to lying in a bed all day long, he wasn't going to give in. He was a stubborn bastard, and changing the variable on this experiment of captivity was the only way to get some new results. If he had to fade away to nothing, then it would be on his terms.

He dreamt a lot, and not all nightmares. There were memories of his mother and his grandmother, and the peach trees back on the farm where he shared his first kiss. He remembered the first time his father tanned his hide when he was eight years old, because he’d figured out how to crack the lock on his medkit. Leonard had stolen all of the hypos, and then sold them to some older kids at school so he could buy a new hoverbike. There had been no regen unit to heal the hurt his father doled out, he’d made sure of that.

Mostly his nights were filled with Jim. From that damn shuttle ride when he nestled his way into Leonard's heart, to that last fight in the hotel room, he ached for those memories, wondering if that was all there was going to be. There would be no growing old with Jim. They weren’t going to ‘seek out new life,' or 'find a distant planet where no one had ever stood.’ There wasn’t going to be a universe meant for the two of them. And that was reason enough to never want to wake from these dreams.

_“Bones.”_

He smiled at the familiar voice.

“Bones, wake up.” He felt the mattress dip, and the tug of hands on his shoulders, pulling him away from the wall.

“Jim?” Leonard croaked.

“Come on, Bones.” Jim rolled him over. “You have to get up.”

“You’re here?” Leonard reached for him, grasping at his arms, squeezing to make sure it was real. He clung to the solid form, never wanting to let go.

“I told you I’d come for you.” Jim didn’t squeeze back, instead, he tried to get Leonard to sit up.

Struggling, Leonard couldn’t take his eyes off Jim. He looked the same as when Leonard last saw him. He was fresh faced, with a light in his blue eyes that warmed the chill that had taken over Leonard’s body for days.

“What took you so long, asshole?”

The corner of Jim’s mouth turned up, and his eyes flitted over Leonard’s face taking in all of his features, then his eyes crinkled, and the sound of laughter filled the room. It was his laugh, the one that said Jim loved him even though he was a stubborn bastard most of the time, and it was the only sound he wanted to hear.

“I love you, too, jackass,” Jim said, then he pulled Leonard into a fierce hug, holding him while Leonard wept away his sorrow until it turned to recognition.

“Can you walk?” Jim asked, still holding on to him.

“Yeah, I think so.” His arms and head felt heavy, and his legs were shaky as he stood, but Jim held on. As he took his first step in days, maybe weeks, the buzzer sounded, and the room started to spin. Leonard’s head swam, his eyes rolling back into his head, then he felt himself falling and the feel of Jim's arms slipped away.

No. No. No. Not this. Not like this.

_“Open your eyes. Come on, you can do it, Leonard. Just open your eyes for me….”_

_“Bones.”_ Jim’s voice was no longer right next to him, it was distant, like he was yelling down a long corridor.

Leonard’s mind was screaming, ‘No! Don’t go. Don’t leave me!’ but his head hit something hard, and the feel of Jim’s solid arms around him were lost.

 


	11. =/11\=

The voice he heard wasn't one he recognized, or the one he wanted to hear, but after three months without any sound other than a damn buzzer and his own voice, what he heard sounded like angels whispering in his ear. He didn't open his eyes. If this was a dream like the last one, he wanted to savor the sound of this clear, and purely feminine, voice. He lay still, smiling to himself waiting to hear it again.

"McCoy."

He was McCoy. Leonard McCoy, and this voice knew who he was.

"That's it. Open your eyes."

He didn't, though. If he opened his eyes, the buzzer would sound, the room would spin, and the fantasy would be over. If he lay still a little longer, he'd hear his name again, and it would give him the strength to roll over and survive one more day.

"Lieutenant Commander McCoy."

He frowned at the title. It no longer meant what it used to. These people had taken everything from him, and the rank was no longer the man he was. The reality shook him from his dream. He awoke to the sounds of a soft and steady beep. There was the regulated hiss of air through vents, but not like before, and the hum of the lights was different. The smell of concrete was gone, replaced by a pungent cleanser, and the subtle scent of a sweet, floral perfume.

Spreading his fingers, he tested the familiarity of the surface. The bed sheets were harsher than he remembered, and the sponginess of his mattress was gone. He was on a biobed, not unlike the ones on the _Enterprise_.

The beeping above his head sped up, matching the pace of his heart. His eyelids fluttered, but it felt like he was fighting ocean tides to open them. He shut them tight from the bright overhead lights.

"You can do it, Dr. McCoy. Come on," the pleasant voice said. This time he forced a grunt through his lips, answering because she called him doctor.

"Where am I?" That's what came out in his head, but it sure didn't sound like it to his ears.

Leonard's eyes finally opened, landing on a young woman dressed in lieutenant medical blues. He thought she was beautiful, and it wasn't because she was the first person he'd laid eyes on in months. With straight shoulders that didn't slouch, she stood tall and proud while she examined him with a critical eye. Her long blonde hair hung past those perfectly shaped shoulders, and it was golden like the sun. She had soft blue eyes, not as bright as Jim's, but brilliant in their own way.

Leonard tried to speak again, but found his mouth was particularly dry. Sensing his distress, she reached for a cup of water and placed the straw in front of his mouth.

He drank deeply, never taking his eyes off the woman for fear she'd disappear. The metallic taste in the water was gone. This was pure and clean, and satisfying.

"Are you real?" he asked when he'd had his fill. His voice was scratchy and broken, but it was his own, and he was speaking to another living, breathing person. He wanted to fall to his knees and worship at her feet.

She let out a huff, rolling her eyes. "Of course I'm real." When she reached across him to adjust something on his monitor, her hand brushed his, and he grabbed hold of it to make certain. He clung to her hand with desperation, squeezing it more than he should.

"Been so long..."

"So long since...?" She was looking at him warily, but didn't pull away.

"Since anyone's touched me." His voice cracked as he said it, but if she was shocked by his confession, she didn't show it. She let him hold her hand, gripping tight for reassurance. He wanted to weep, but his fear kept the tears from falling. His chest ached from the warmth of her hand, and if he had been brave, he might have pressed it upon his cheek. He dared not move until he was convinced she was real and not a manifestation of his mind.

"Where am I?" he asked again.

"Axius V." She said it without apology.

"Axius V? What the hell is that?”

“A self-reliant space station.”

“A space-station? Have I been here this whole time?" He choked on a sob, letting her go, so he could hide his face behind his hands. She let him have his moment, and when he'd caught his breath, she placed a reassuring touch on his shoulder. His body was racked with sorrow, so the kindness only invoked more tears.

"This happens sometimes," she said, still patting his shoulder. "The transition can have that effect."

He wept openly for everything he'd lost in the last few months, but mostly he wept in gratitude. He was no longer alone.

After some time, he found his voice again. "How long have I been here?"

"You just arrived." She checked his vitals again, making note of something in her PADD.

"From where to where?"

She paused from whatever information she was inputting, no longer hiding her worry. "Earth, of course. You’re in the Delta quadrant."

Leonard's memories finally had the good graces to come rushing back all at once. He jumped off the bed, only to have his legs buckle underneath him.

"Don't make me dose you with a sedative," the woman said, reaching for the tray.

Leonard put the bed between himself and the leggy blonde, giving him a chance to check his surroundings. He was in a medical gown, with monitor pads stuck to his wrists and temples, and when he touched his face this time, it was smooth, absent of the thick facial hair he'd been growing for months.

"What the hell did you do to me?" he demanded, ripping off the pads.

"Calm down, doctor. No one is going to hurt you." She picked up a hypospray, carefully raising it in the air. "No harm came to you. You arrived here sedated for your own protection. I'm sure I don't need to remind you the effects can be disorienting."

He glanced around the room, but kept an eye on the woman. He was in another facility, that much was evident. They were in a medical bay, but on the other side of the floor to ceiling window was some kind a lab.

"What is this place?" he asked, frantically looking for some kind of weapon. "And who the hell are you?"

"This is a research facility."

"Goddamn it! How many times do I have to tell you people? I want no goddamn part of this! I won't be blackmailed. A change of scenery can't make me change my mind. You can stick all this up your ass."

"Dr. McCoy," the woman said, her frustration clearly evident, "I can assure you, no one is blackmailing you. And stop your _goddamn_ swearing!"

"I was kidnapped and taken to the Delta quadrant! Are _you_ here against your will?" Leonard asked, raising an eyebrow. A part of him was actually enjoying this repertoire. She seemed like a woman who could hold her own, and Leonard had three months worth of insults coming her way.

"No, I am not, and neither are you."

"Listen, lady, I don't care what you do to me—"

"Doctor," she cut him off, "you seem like a man who cuts to the quick, so I'm going to lay it out for you. I don't give a flying fig why you think you've been brought here against your will, or how you think you ended up at this facility. The truth of the matter is that we need you. _I_ need you. Your level of expertise in exobiology, as well as autoimmune and infectious diseases is unparalleled to anyone we've ever come across. Quite frankly, we've requested over a dozen doctors, leaders in their fields, not just in Starfleet, but throughout the galaxy to help, but mysteriously we got you instead. Don't get me wrong, I'm trilled about it, but you're all we've got."

"Lady, I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"There are thousands of inhabitants on Axius V who are going to die unless we can stop it from happening."

Leonard felt like he'd been plucked out of one reality, and thrown into another. He wondered if this entire interaction was a holovid. Those Section 31 bastards were clever. They were trying a different tactic. He'd read about this new technology, and even some of the new training modules at Starfleet were using them. A program that looked, felt, and even smelled like the real thing, except it was entirely computer generated. It was an effective way to put cadets in real situations to test their reactions without anyone being harmed. He'd never been in one, but he'd heard they were so life-like it was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't.

From what he saw of Section 31 and its access to new technology, they would easily have their hands on the best holovid programs in the galaxy. It was the only thing that could explain what the hell was happening. He felt awake, he felt alive, but this reality was too messed up for it not to be programmed.

Leonard folded his arms, resting his hip against the edge of the biobed. "You're telling me there's a nasty little epidemic that's going to risk the lives of thousands, and I'm the only who can help?" He felt his eyebrow rise again.

"No one can make any progress with the virus."

"Oh, how convenient."

"No, it's not. And now...now," she let out a frustrated sigh, "I think my colleagues may have been right."

"And just what are they right about, ma'am?"

"Well, Dr. McCoy, I have it on good authority that you are," she swallowed, "the most ill-tempered, stubborn, cantankerous son-of-a-bitch genius to ever hold a tricorder in Starfleet history."

"That so?" Leonard was failing miserably from trying to hide his smile. At least the Section 31 bastards were accurate in their programming of this farce of a set-up.

"And if there was anyone else I could ask," she said, "believe me, I would seek them out, rather than throw myself at a malcontent, pig-headed southern jackass such as yourself." The woman took a deep breath, clearly flustered, and at the end of her rope.

"Well, forgive me, ma'am—"

"It's Christine," she said. "Christine Chapel."

"Well, Christine Chapel, seems you've done your research on me. Flattery goes far with me." Leonard laughed, and it felt good to hear the sound of his own genuine laughter. He gave the woman a wink for good measure. Even if she was part of Section 31, or a computer program, he liked this woman.

"Oh," she said, and huffed. "You really are an insufferable old, horse's ass, aren't you?"

"Who you calling old?"

They appreciated each other's humor for a moment, but then the conversation shifted. Leonard felt Chapel's tension from across the bed.

"I wasn't sure we made the right decision," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "I hoped you would be well enough. It's been four months, and hundreds have already died. You're our last hope. I can't ignore your current mental status, Dr. McCoy—I'm under orders, you see—but I will afford you all the help you need when this is over."

Leonard crooked the corner of his mouth, giving her a half smile, but as he processed what she was saying, he felt the hairs on his arms rise.

"Wait. What?" he asked. "What about my mental status?"

"I apologize, Doctor. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"What do you mean?" He still wondered if this was real, and there was a good chance that it wasn't, but at this point there was only one way to test his theory.

"I need to use your comm," he said. "I need to send a message to someone."

"It's not possible. We're under strict quarantine—the entire station. No communications in or out. No one leaves."

"Of course." His voice was filled with sarcasm, even if he knew it was the standard protocol for a quarantined station, and Section 31 would make all of the details accurate.

"For the past four months we've had daily communications with Starfleet, but we don't have another one for nineteen hours. The Federation ships orbiting the station have set up embargos, and blocked all communication. We had to use all of our favors to get you here."

"This epidemic, you say it's been progressing for four months?" Leonard was surprised he hadn't heard about it before his incarceration. His focus had always been deep space diseases, and new pathogens on other planets. Something this devastating would have come up in his daily readings while he was living at the farm.

"The first patient presented symptoms on 2259.232, died on 2259.243."

Leonard nodded, taking in the incubation period, but then he registered the date. "2259.243? You say that was four months ago?"

She nodded.

Leonard's heart rate accelerated. He must have missed one of the pads on his chest because the monitor was loud and erratic. Gripping tightly to the edge of the bed, he forced himself to breathe.

"What's the current stardate?" he managed to get out.

"2260.034."

"Sonuvabitch," he whispered. While he was in the rat cage, he'd been marking his days religiously, only missing the past few weeks he spent in bed. The times he'd been knocked out by the gas, he never thought he'd been kept under for more than a day or two. The last time he'd used his ring to scratch the wall, he'd crossed off number seventeen in his groups of five, which meant he'd been incarcerated for about eighty-five days. The hearing was on 2259.162, so by his quick calculations, the current stardate should be around 2259.250, give or take a week or two for the days he couldn't recall.

Leonard had lost another three months of his life somehow.

"I don't know what kind of bull they fed you, Chapel...or maybe you're part of all this, _Lieutenant_ , but I can assure you, I'm not here of my own volition. The last thing I remember is being taken into custody on 2259.162, and held against my will in some kind of prison for about ninety days without any contact with anyone. Then I woke up here."

The woman's skepticism was apparent, and then in an instant her eyes filled with compassion. "So, it is true, then."

"Yes! Goddamn Project Genesis, and Section 31!"

Chapel nodded, her eyes filling with sudden tears. If there was one thing Leonard hated was a woman crying, but before he softened his exterior, she wiped her eyes and held her chin up.

"All that extraordinary talent..." she said under her breath. "They said you weren't yourself anymore. That the accident changed you, but when you agreed to come, we could only hope you were better."

"Now, wait a minute. What damn accident?"

"The _Enterprise_."

"What about her?" It was a desperate demand, and startled Chapel.

Leonard's poor heart couldn't take much more of this. His knees buckled, but luckily he was still holding on to the bed. He needed to sit down, especially if he was about to hear ill-fated news about the ship and her crew.

"The terrorist, John Harrison," she said, and relief washed over Leonard. "It was all too much for you to take. Starfleet agreed to let you out so you could help us with the cure. Don't you remember any of this?"

"Let me out of where, exactly?"

"A facility for your well-being."

"A mental institution? That's where they're saying I've been?" Leonard couldn't stop his laughter from bubbling to the surface; it was the only way to stave off the hysteria threatening to overpower him. He wasn't mentally ill, not when he remembered everything about being in that merry-go-round cell like it happened yesterday, which to Leonard's knowledge, it had.

"Chapel, I'm not crazy, just mighty pissed off right now." He straightened up, and looked her in the eye. "The _Enterprise_. Tell me her and her crew are okay."

The Lieutenant did nothing to hide her surprise. "Yes, as far as I know. She's still orbiting Earth. Repairs are finished, and they're running through maintenance checks."

"And the captain?"

"Captain Kirk is on board."

Leonard noticed she said his name with a hint of familiarity, if not a little bit of contempt, but he let it slide when the knowledge that Jim was all right sunk in. He breathed a sigh of relief. Jim was alive in this scenario, and as long as he stayed that way, Leonard could handle any of this. If this _was_ real, and he'd surfaced on Axius V—whatever the hell this place was—Jim would find him.

 


	12. =/12\=

Leonard observed that Christine Chapel was an intelligent woman. What he liked best about her was her truthful answers, well, he hoped they were, or she was one hell of a liar. He had a good bullshit detector, and Christine Chapel smelled like roses.

“I know you said we’re on a space station,” Leonard said, looking out the window at the green trees and the sun, “but it sure doesn’t feel like it, or look like it for that matter.” He was looking at tall buildings and green spaces, and people walking in the open air under a blue sky.

“The station is protected by a force-field. Emulates a planet. We can walk outside, breathe fresh, simulated air as if we were outside.” She went on to explain the process of CO2 scrubbers, sunlight, the atmosphere and other things probably on the station’s welcome package, but Leonard had tuned her out. She had lost him at force field, and now he was busy focusing on regulating his breathing.

“You mean to tell me, the only thing keeping us from floating in the black, is some kind of naked-to-the-human-eye force-field?”

“It’s all perfectly safe,” she said.

“Until it isn’t,” he mumbled, stepping away from the window. He wanted to revel in the sunlight, but not this fake sun. “I think I prefer the underground prison.”

She didn’t react, only kept her critical eye on him while leading him to a room where he could change, and take care of business privately.

There was a part of him that didn't think Christine was real, which didn't help to convince her he wasn't crazy. He supposed her continued skepticism of his mental state was the only thing that worked in her favor. If this were some kind of holovid program, proving his sanity wouldn't be so in depth. He wanted to trust her as much as she wanted to trust him, but as far as he was concerned, she was in league with Starfleet Intelligence, and more than likely an agent of Section 31. Leonard couldn’t trust that it was 2260.034. He could have been gassed for a day or two, and was being led to believe the current stardate was three months in the future.

The only thing that didn't make sense was his muscle mass. He had been in that bed, starving himself long enough that his muscles had started to atrophy. If it had only been a few days, his body couldn't have regenerated that quickly unless he had been in stasis. Since waking on the biobed, he felt like his old self. His body ached a little, like he hadn't used his legs or arms in a while, but he had been in rough shape the last he remembered. The bedsores alone would have left scars in that short of time. Everything about his physical form corroborated Christine's story. The only possibility that could account for his physical appearance was if he'd been put in some kind of stasis for the last three months. Cryotubed, or otherwise, and Section 31 had access to that technology.

The thought of being frozen for that long turned Leonard's stomach. This was another way to manipulate him. Those bastards weren't finished with him, and the only way to get out of this was to contact Jim or the _Enterprise_.

Chapel had given him some scrubs, and a cup of tea, which Leonard watched her make, then he swapped her mug for his own before drinking. She took him to an office area where they sat until Leonard felt a little more himself. He still felt the need to reach out and touch her, but he refrained.

He made Chapel start at the beginning, right back to the day of his hearing.

"So, what you're telling me is that it was public knowledge that I...what did you say? 'Flipped out' at Starfleet HQ?"

"The media got a hold of surveillance footage of you being accosted by a security team outside of the gates. It was reported you were agitated, and tried to bypass security protocols with a suspicious package. It became public knowledge that the decorated hero, Dr. Leonard McCoy, hadn't taken the incident with John Harrison very well, and had been relieved from duty for a mental evaluation. Starfleet tried to keep your discharge quiet, to give you your privacy, but some idiot got his hands on the video, and released it to the news outlets."

"Some idiot, indeed," Leonard said, frowning.

"Everyone was affected by what happened, Dr. McCoy. You just took it a little harder than most." Christine gave him a sad smile, filled with pity.

"For one," Leonard said, rolling his eyes, "I was dismissed, yes, but not for _that_ reason. It's a little more personal than that, and a lot more complicated. And _two_ , I was at headquarters because I was summoned for a tribunal. It's a little convenient someone got a hold of secure Starfleet footage, don't you think?"

"Dr. McCoy," Christine said, her voice cautious, "there was no record of that tribunal."

"How would you know? I just told you about it."

Chapel looked down at her hands. "Your father led with that defense."

"What do you mean 'led?' What the hell happened? And what do you know about my father?" His voice was demanding, and Chapel at least had the decency to look him in the eye, which he admired.

"He was in the news a lot when this all came out over six months ago. He pleaded on camera to anyone who would listen that you'd been incarcerated against your will without a trial. Admirals Cartwright and Liu testified to your state of mind. They accused you of intending to do harm to yourself, as well as your superior officers."

Leonard snorted. "Well, that part has some truth."

"Your father claimed you'd been called to Starfleet for a tribunal, he had a letter or something, but there was no official record of the document being sent."

"But there was a letter..." A paper letter, Leonard finished in his head. It wasn't unusual to have correspondence through letters, some liked the nostalgia, and official notices usually came in duplicate: paper and electronic. He didn't recall receiving a digital copy of the summons, but then he wouldn't if there was to be no record of it. There would have been no digital trace, or Jim and Chekov would have found it, and corroborated the story.

"Was there anyone else who stood with my father?" Leonard didn't want to ask about Jim, but he was surprised to hear he hadn't been the one making waves. That ugly uncertainty was rearing its head, and settling itself nicely in the forefront of his mind. There had been moments in the past three months when he'd doubted Jim, but then he'd berate himself for losing faith. But maybe Jim had given up, maybe he'd listened to Leonard and decided his career wasn't worth the risk.

"I don't know much else. I'm sorry," Chapel said.

"And my father?" He was hollow, and the emptiness was threatening to consume him.

"I only know he's not been well, and is under the care of a Mr. Sulu and his husband in San Francisco."

"Sulu? As in Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu?" The news was so bittersweet a lump in his throat formed, and he coughed to clear it. If the Sulus were minding his father that meant Jim was still looking for him.

"His husband, yes. That's all I know, Dr. McCoy. It's everything that was in your file."

"I'd like to see that file," Leonard said, controlling his emotions again.

"I'll grant you whatever access you want," she said without hesitation, and that garnered another notch in the Chapel admiration post.

"What of the other _Enterprise_ crew?" Leonard couldn't bring himself to say Jim's name. Chapel was clever, and she'd see right through him. If she was working for Section 31, no doubt she knew more about Leonard and Jim than either of them knew about themselves.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"Should I?"

"No, I suppose not."

Leonard fixed her a look that said, 'Hey, I'm not crazy, just bad with faces.'

"I was assigned to the _Enterprise_ ," she said. "I was on board during Vulcan's destruction. And Nero."

"You were a nurse." Leonard recalled the name Chapel, but frowned when he looked at her attire. She was dressed in medical scrubs fit for a doctor. "You don't look like a nurse."

She smiled. "I'd been a nurse for some time when they called everyone to active duty for the distress call. I was taking classes here and there for a few years on top of my workload to decide if I wanted to be become a doctor."

Leonard vaguely remembered her during his first stint as CMO after Dr. Purdy died. She was efficient, and capable, if his memory recalled correctly.

"I'll be frank, Dr. McCoy. Your actions that day on the _Enterprise_ pushed me harder to become a doctor. I admired you, which is why I had a hard time believing the reports about your...illness. You acted like a seasoned professional that day when we were all just a bunch of kids scared shitless, and thrown into an impossible situation. I saw no evidence of someone incapable of handling that kind of pressure." She leaned forward with sympathy in her eyes. "But everyone has their breaking point."

"Don't I know it," Leonard muttered, thinking about what he thought was only a few days ago in the rat cage. "But mine has nothing to do with mad men and starships crashing to Earth.

"Look, Christine," he continued. "You don't trust me, and I sure as hell don't trust you. But right now you're all I have. You're all I've had in a long time. I want to get back to my father, my friends...my life, and I don't know how to do that. I have no goddamn clue what Starfleet is playing at, and I'm betting you're here to make sure they get what they want. So, why don't you tell me why I'm here, or at least why you think I'm here?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

"This is going to take a lot longer than it needs to if you keep asking me that."

"Axius V? The Red Death?"

"Still nothing." Leonard tapped his temple.

"It should've been in the news across the galaxy. Hundreds have died." She was looking at him, waiting for the words to trigger his memories.

"I've been locked away, and possibly had my ass cryotubed for months."

"All right, fine. I give in," she said, sitting back, clearly not playing into his delusions, but forging ahead despite them. It wasn't often Leonard came across someone more cynical than him, but with Chapel he had some serious competition. "There's an epidemic on this station, which is why we're under quarantine." She grabbed her PADD, pulling up some footage of the infected on Axius V. "The horrors of it are quite brutal."

"They usually are." She was trying to plead to his softer side, hoping he had one, which he didn't when it came to deadly killers. Images of children bleeding from their eyes and ears would not call Leonard into action. He was brilliant at what he did because he remained impartial. There was no use crying over the dying, not when there was work to be done. People were destined to die every second of the day, some he could save, and some he couldn't. It was a by-product of being a doctor, and a damn good one at that.

Disease and death went hand in hand in this galaxy. Those microscopic infectious agents were the ultimate fighting machines. Those were Leonard's enemies. Nero, Marcus, and the super-human, Khan, had nothing on a pandemic once it took hold of a host with no intention of surrendering.

Leonard had spent the better part of a year being angry with Jim for something that—for the most part—was out of his control. Jim tried to save as many people as fate would allow. Leonard called him reckless, selfish, and a bunch of other things he'd never say in front of his father without earning a cuff to the head. Whereas Jim couldn't walk away from a physical fight with the largest fists in the bar, Leonard would always be compelled to go toe to toe with the nastiest, deadliest, little buggers in the galaxy. He was the proverbially pot in this kettle scenario. Reckless didn't begin to cover what Leonard was about to get pushed into, and he had no doubt Section 31 knew what strings to pull.

He took a deep breath once the video footage ended. "The replication rate makes about as much sense as a screen door on a starship. It's a doozy of a disease, I'll give you that."

"Doozy?" She was holding back a laugh.

"You'll just have to get used to my Georgia sweet talk, Christine. It seems to be all I have left."

"So, you'll help us?" she pleaded, and Leonard seemed to think it was something she didn't do often.

"It's really happening, then?" he asked, and she nodded. "And you don't know who patient zero is?"

"No, we thought we did, but it turned out we were wrong."

"The hard way it is," Leonard mumbled. He'd play along, anything to get away from that cell, but he'd use what Jim taught him and learn all that he could.

"I've been here since the beginning," Christine said. "I was stationed on Axius V about a month before it started. My first year residency is here, but it's been put on hold since the outbreak. I'm one of the few people left from this facility. No one would come when we put our distress call out. Starfleet wouldn't take the risk of putting more physicians on the station. A team is supposedly working on the cure on Earth, but none have come here. We lost too many." She looked lost for a moment, probably recalling a friend or colleague.

"Knowing what kind of man and doctor you are, and your...predicament, I took the chance you might welcome a change of scenery. Starfleet agreed as long as you did, and here you are. I'm sorry if you weren't given the choice, Dr. McCoy, but I can't tell you how relieved I am you're here. I've been thrown into the thick of it without any real mentors."

"Always did like the sink or swim philosophy, and it looks to me like you're a mighty fine swimmer, doctor." His comment earned him a blush from Chapel, and he liked the look on her. It dosed the furious inferno burning inside him just a little bit.

"Officially, I don't have my license," she said, avoiding his eyes, "not yet."

"Neither do I," he said and laughed. "Technicalities," Leonard scoffed, leaning forward in his chair. "And when we're finished here, you will." He rested his elbows on his knees. "You're going to have to give me access to everything you have."

"Now, that's the man I remember." She sighed in relief with a smile. Her eyes were shiny with tears when she looked at him. Handing him the PADD, she said, "This is a brief rundown of the etiology of the disease. I have much more where it came from, but it should give you a general idea of what we're facing."

Leonard examined the PADD. She was right about it being nasty, but then in Leonard's experience, most viral hemorrhagic fevers were downright nefarious. On his first pass through the data, he thought the virus looked a lot like a deadly twentieth century virus discovered in East Africa. There hadn't been a case of it in over two hundred years though, not since a vaccine was developed for it.

The incubation period for this "red fever"—for that's what the populace of Axius V had begun calling it—was anywhere from two to seventeen days. The Red Death. He understood why any uneducated person would start calling it that, but every hemorrhagic fever made people bleed from their orifices. If Leonard had anything to do with it, he'd change the name of the disease as soon as he was settled. Besides, since it seemed to cross species, the red death didn't have quite the same meaning for an infected Vulcan.

Leonard knew how convenient and contrived this whole scenario was. If this were real, would Section 31 be desperate enough to start a pandemic thinking Leonard would use the serum for the cure? Would they risk hundreds, potentially thousands of lives, to get what they wanted? Leonard didn't want to believe it, but his gut was telling him they would. He just hoped to hell Christine wasn't a part of this, under different circumstances he could see them being friends.

He'd help Chapel, but he'd find a cure the old fashioned way without cheating.

"You sure I can't get a message to someone?" Leonard thought he'd ask again now they'd shared a moment.

"Not until tomorrow, but even then, it's a scheduled restricted comm with Starfleet HQ."

"And they know I'm here? Who signed off on my release?"

"Admiral Cartwright."

Leonard snorted. At least she was forthright with her answers. "So, he's the one you speak with?"

"No, never. It varies each day."

"But it's Section 31, right?"

"Section 31?" Christine leaned away from him, frowning, and seemed to deflate from his question.

"Fine. No more talk of secret Federation factions." He raised his hands in the air. "I like you, Chapel," he said, "even if you are one of those bastards. And if you get me a drink of bourbon, or whisky—I'm not fussy—I may give it all up for you." This time he laughed at himself until some of his burdens seemed to ease.

 


	13. =/13\=

Chapel was hospitable, at least. She never produced any alcohol for Leonard, citing professional responsibility, but she had shown him where he would be laying his head. It was a step up in terms of accommodation, but staying at her place near the facility meant he was still a prisoner. He wouldn't complain, though, the idea of being left on his own scared him more than he was willing to admit. He would take comfort in Christine’s presence, even if she was his watcher.

Chapel's place wasn't exactly a home, or even much of an apartment. She chose convenience over luxury, preferring to live close to the facility, rather than somewhere with style. What it lacked in flare, it made up for in space. It was open, and airy, with two bedrooms set far enough apart it provided Leonard with the illusion of privacy.

The kitchen was small, lacking some modern conveniences found in most kitchens. It had a cooking element, a refrigeration unit, and a small food replicator, and from the looks of things, Christine mostly ate replicated foods. There wasn't even a dining area, only a long bench with two tall chairs nestled underneath. There was, however, an expansive sitting area with two large sofas situated around an old fashioned fireplace.

As Leonard looked around the room, he noticed the lack of color, not that Leonard was an expert in design, but his ex-wife had taught him enough that warm colors helped to make a place a home. Even though it looked lived in, this wasn't Christine's home. It was a place to lay her head at the end of a long day.

"Cozy," Leonard said, taking a turn around the room.

"Shut up, Leonard," she said. They seemed to slip into a familiarity that even Leonard was surprised by. She led him down the gray, barren hallway, passing only one door along the way, which she casually told him it was his own bathroom.

"This will be your room," she said, pushing a button on a panel, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom.

"Lock on the door?" Leonard asked.

"You're not a prisoner."

He snorted. "Could’ve fooled me."

"You're free to come and go, although you're expected at the clinic daily. That was part of the agreement."

"Agreement. Right," he mumbled.

"This is where you can come when you can't stand on your feet any longer." Leonard's eyebrow shot up. "Oh, please, I know how you operate, doctor. This bed will still be brand new by the time we're through."

"If I wasn't so goddamn tired, I'd have a witty retort for that challenge. One that might make you blush, but as it stands, I do intend to make good use of that bed right now for some much needed sleep." He rolled his shoulders, tilting his head back and forth. "I feel like I've aged a hundred years. You sure it's only 2260?"

"Get some rest, Leonard. You can meet M'Benga and the rest of the team tomorrow."

"M'Who?"

"Dr. Geoffrey M'Benga. He's the one in charge at the clinic, and the lab. It's his team."

“ _His_ team, is it?” Leonard wasn’t much for pissing matches, but when it came to deadly viruses, he liked to be in charge. Somehow, Starfleet had drugged him, kept him prisoner, possibly frozen him, and now set him on a quarantined station with a lethal pathogen against his will. He was entitled to carte blanche. If he was going to participate, he wanted to call the shots despite whatever misgivings these other doctors might have.

“Yes, his team.” Christine gave him a pointed look. “You're here as a consultant...officially.”

Leonard recognized the sign of ruffled feathers all too well. “Officially, huh? Well, I’m betting there’s nothing official about me being here in any of the record logs. So, to use your words, Chapel, I don’t give a flying fig whose toes I’m stepping on. I’ll stomp on the President of the Federation’s foot if it means I can prevent someone from dying carelessly.” She started to protest, but Leonard stopped her. “Now, I’m not questioning this M'Benga's competency or yours, I’m just saying, on this occasion, mine is better.”

Christine looked like she was about to argue, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth dropped open. She shut it as soon as Leonard folded his arms, not to be swayed.

"Get some rest, Dr. McCoy, tomorrow is going to be a long day." She went to the window on the far side of the room, and pushed a button to engage the mechanical shades. "Any necessities you require are in the bathroom. Your clothing has been unpacked, and it's in the closet and the drawers. If you need anything further, just ask me, and I'll see what I can do."

"In case my file didn't mention it, I like a dram of bourbon before bedtime."

"You're not going to drink your way through this, so stop asking." She huffed, putting a hand on her hip. "You're thirty-three, not eighty!" Sliding through the door, she left Leonard to his own devices.

He chuckled at her exaggerated departure, and then took a moment to take everything in. For the first time since the guards had grabbed hold of his arms at the tribunal, he could breathe deeply. Having someone to talk to was a novelty, and he didn't want to waste a moment sleeping. He didn't want to shut his eyes, worried he'd wake up again and be back in the cage.

_Thirty-three._

His heart sank, then his hands began to shake. The realization of his age hit him with brevity. He had slept through his birthday. Almost a year of his life had been stolen from him since he saved Jim. For a panicked moment, he wanted to call out to Christine, to ask her to sit and watch over him while he rested his weary bones. He worried if he closed his eyes, they would rob him of more than just time.

It hurt too much to wallow about the things he couldn't change. He'd done that already. Being here was better than being alone, and he was grateful to whoever made the decision to move him. He could work with this, and he would find a way to get back to his life.

With the adrenaline gone from his system, he was feeling the effects of the day. His exhaustion was bone deep, and it felt like he was carrying a hundred pounds of extra weight on muscles that hadn’t been used in months. He was still wearing the scrubs Christine had given him, and as much as he hated wearing the white, stiff uniform, he welcomed the change from the Starfleet uniform he'd been stuck in for months.

He went through his only so-called possessions. There were more scrubs hanging in the closet, no uniform shirts thankfully, and they were all his size. This was a step up from his elaborate cell, not just the carpeted flooring, but also the freedom of choice—albeit minimal—was a welcome addition. Until he understood Christine's motives, he'd greedily take whatever she wanted to dish out, except it would take a lot more than a spare room to get him to open up.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put his head in his hands. He thought about the people he'd left behind on Earth. Christine had kept him busy all day, so he hadn't had time to truly digest the information she shared with him. He'd never been close with Sulu, he was more Jim's man than Leonard's, but knowing his husband was watching out for his father, well, that bit of news was a heavy hit to the heart. His father loved Georgia, and loved that farmhouse, he wouldn't trust it to strangers to watch over, but he had stayed in San Francisco, stayed close to Jim.

 _Jim_.

Christine mentioned he was on the _Enterprise_ , but Leonard hadn’t asked for more details, and she hadn’t provided any. If the Sulus had his father in their care, Jim had been the one to arrange it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Christine opened it, stepping into the room.

"It's not bourbon," she said, "but this always worked for me when I was a child." She held up a glass. "Warm milk. I'm sorry it's not the real stuff, but I've never been domestic."

Leonard took what she offered, and for some damn reason, his hardened façade cracked a little. It was a simple gesture, but he'd been so utterly and completely alone for so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to be cared for. This, and the knowledge of Jim and the crew of the _Enterprise_ looking out for his father, ignited that spark of hope he’d let extinguish weeks ago.

Keeping his eyes downcast, he took a sip even though he didn't like the taste of milk all that much. It tasted like nothing he remembered. He swallowed half of the replicated contents before handing it back to her.

"Thank you, Christine," he said softly. As she reached for the glass, their hands brushed, lingering longer than necessary.

The simple touch of another human being shouldn’t have affected him so much; at least not enough that he wanted to grab hold of her, and never let her go. Sensing his sorrow, her hand came to rest on his cheek, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it.

"You can trust me," she said.

Her kindness was about to undo him, so he could only nod his response. He had no damn idea what was happening, or where he’d been all this time, or even who this woman was, but he made a promise to himself to right the wrongs against him, and that meant fighting to stay present.

Clearing his throat, he stepped away from her to get the space he needed to remember why he was here and how he got here.

"Leonard," she said his name with a plea, but all he could do was turn his back to her. She sighed, waiting to see if he turned around. "There's a bar at the end of this street," she said. "It’s still operating, even under the quarantine. It doesn't have the friendliest of clientele, in fact, it's pretty much the hub for the scum of the city. Rumor has it, the man who runs it can acquire things at a cost."  She turned to leave him, stopping with her hand on the doorframe. "He can probably get a communication out, but the price will be high. Ask for Mudd." And with that, she left Leonard for the rest of the evening to ponder over the last name 'Mudd.'

Surely, it couldn't be possible.

=/\=

It turned out the man in charge of the lab was a third year resident. As far as Leonard was concerned there weren't any toes to step on. Dr. Geoffrey M'Benga was happy to hand over the torch when Leonard and Christine showed up at the lab the next morning. He was a competent man, but it was obvious his specialty wasn't infectious diseases. He was in over his head, much like the others. They had been thrust into their responsibilities when the head of the facility, Dr. Deneeda, contracted the virus and eventually succumbed to it, taking eleven of her staff members with her.

While M'Benga, Chapel, and a handful of others stayed on Axius V, there were a number of doctors who evacuated before the lockdown. It was curious Starfleet hadn't sent a team when they quarantined the station. Standard protocol didn't call for total isolation, not when the lives of thousands were at stake, then again, Leonard was finished guessing what Starfleet would or wouldn't do. Leonard could appreciate M'Benga's efforts. He admired any doctor who stayed to help and fight in times of crises. M'Benga was a proud, young man, a few years younger than Leonard, but then all of them were. When Leonard looked at his team, he was amused by their youth—he really was destined to be around baby-faced geniuses.

Everyone was gathered in one of the conference rooms, Leonard at the head of the table with Christine to his right. Including Leonard, there were twenty-three doctors and nurses, researchers and scientists, and he’d already given up on remembering their names. Some would stay to work in the lab to find a cure, and the others would head to the two hospitals where patients were flooding in. He wanted them all on the same page so they could enforce his quarantine procedures to the rest of their staff.

They were watching him carefully, stealing glances at the door as though they expected him to start ranting like the lunatic they were led to believe he was. Thankfully, coffee was back on Leonard’s menu, garnering only a few bizarre looks from Chapel when he insisted on grinding his own beans, and boiling his own water to drink it. He sipped slowly while he thought of what he was going to say to his haggard looking team. His head was pounding, it had been ever since he’d woken up on the biobed yesterday, and despite his exhaustion, he didn’t sleep that much. His night was filled with endless gray corridors, rivers of blood, and masked villains.

"I don't know what you've heard about me," Leonard began, addressing the small group of people in front of him, "and frankly, I don't care. Speculate all you want, but when it comes to this quarantine, I’m in charge. My word will always be the final one. If any of you have a problem with this, there's the door." He pointed to a silver metal door on the other side of the room.

Christine coughed to get his attention, discreetly pointing to the door on the opposite side of the room.

Leonard took another sip of his coffee, savoring it just a little bit before shaking his head. "Whatever." He pointed to the correct door leading out of the conference room. "You know what I mean. I won't have anyone carelessly risking their lives. You follow my rules, and my rules only. Christine will be distributing my requests, and these orders are non-negotiable.  If you stick to that, I promise we'll all make it out of here, and off this goddamn station alive."

"Lieutenant Commander, sir?" An Andorian to Leonard's left raised her hand.

"It's Dr. McCoy, or Leonard. I'm not here as a Starfleet Medical officer, so you can drop the formalities." Leonard wasn't sure if Andorians could blush, but he had a feeling this young one was doing just that.

"Apologies, doctor," she said.

"You had a question...?" He trailed off, asking for her name.

"Lissan," she offered. "Yes, I was wondering if...Starfleet was sending another medical team?"

"We're it, Lissan. There won't be any help coming as far as I know. So, it's up to us. You okay with that?"

She sat up straight in her chair, clasping her hands in front of her. "Yes, sir."

"All right, then," Leonard said, then looked at the rest of the team. "Who are my hematologists?"

"I am," Lissan answered, and one other raised her hand, a woman named Margo Ruthers.

Leonard acknowledged her, but she didn’t return his sentiments. She seemed less than thrilled to be answering to the 'deranged doctor.'

"Cross species?" he asked them both. Ruthers nodded again, while Lissan raised her hand intent on speaking.

"I've studied on many planets,” Lissan began. “Andorians are my specialty, of course, but Terrans, Deltans, Orions, Ard—"

"Yes, okay." Leonard chuckled, raising his hands. "You sure you're not half-Vulcan?" He said it under his breath, and before she could respond from the insult, he turned to M'Benga. "Speaking of Vulcans, I understand you're a bit of an expert?"

M'Benga tensed his shoulders. "I'm working my way there. The first two years of my residency was on Vulcan. I was on leave to Earth when it was destroyed, and then I was reassigned here." M'Benga leveled his gaze at Leonard which he recognized all too well. The destruction of Vulcan would haunt them all forever. "I've been treating most of the non-Terrans. The disease has yet to find an immune species, although Vulcans have shown the most resistance."

Leonard noticed he said it with a hint of pride. "Doesn't surprise me," Leonard said then smiled. "The green-blooded bastards are tenacious." M'Benga's head jerked up, and there were gasps around the room, but Leonard ignored them. "We can use that. Maybe we can slow the progression down, not a cure, but a fighting chance until we get that cure."

His team sat at the table, eyes wide and mouths open. Clearly he’d said something to offend them. Rolling his eyes, Leonard scoffed. “We don’t have time for pleasantries, so if I’ve offended your sensibilities, tough. I can assure you it won’t be the last time it happens.” He waited for his words to sink in. Christine had warned him not everyone was pleased with his arrival on Axius V, which was understandable. They were putting their lives in his ‘mentally unstable’ hands, and he would be no different under the same circumstances. He needed to reassure his team, and get them to turn over their trust in him completely. If he couldn’t do that, then they were all doomed to die on this space station.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said, then looked Ruthers in the eye, “putting your faith in me. But I’ll do my damndest to keep you safe.” Considering there was a good chance their lives were at risk because of him, the need to keep everyone alive weighed heavily on Leonard.

“A good friend once told me, ‘The greatest danger we face is ourselves. It’s the irrational fear of the unknown.’ And I’ll tell you this right now, there is no ‘unknown,’ only things temporarily hidden to us, or temporarily not understood. This disease, this Red Death, is hiding from us, and we’re going to find it.”


	14. =/14\=

All morning Leonard chewed on the name ‘Mudd.’ He knew of one miscreant by that name, and what were the odds there were two Mudds in the universe with that kind of reputation. Before Nibiru, and before Khan, there was Mudd. Harcourt Fenton Mudd: a con man who was a charming rogue, reminiscent of the pirates from Earth’s histories, and fictional stories. Leonard actually liked Mudd. He'd saved the man from hard time, diagnosing him for some much needed psychiatric treatments after getting caught by Jim and the _Enterprise_ for smuggling some very, questionable illegal, and stolen goods.

Last Leonard heard, Mudd was supposed to be serving out his sentence on Regulus III. Then again, Mudd had a way of weaseling his way through life, so when Leonard walked into the seedy establishment Christine had told him about, he wasn’t too surprised to lay eyes on the man he remembered.

“Harry Mudd,” Leonard said, clapping the heavyset man on the back.

Mudd choked on his drink when he turned toward Leonard.

“Dr. McCoy!” His eyes went wide, then narrowed. “I thought you were in the loony bin. Shame when I heard.”

“Funny, I heard that about you, too.”

“No thanks to you!”

“It was for your own good, Harry. It was either commit you, or send you to a penal colony in the Beta quadrant. I was doing you a favor.”

“Is that what happened to you, doctor? Someone call in a favor for you, too? Although, when I heard the news, it didn’t surprise me. Anyone serving under that Captain Kirk is bound to go mad.”

“Don’t I know it,” Leonard said, sitting on the barstool next to Harry and ordering a drink. “How you been, Harry?”

“Better than you,” he said. “It took me awhile to get off that planet you stranded me on when that captain of yours stole my ship.”

“Confiscated, Harry. Smuggling and theft is illegal by Federation law.”

“Smuggling? Why, doctor, I merely brought a shipment aboard unbeknownst to me what was in those crates.”

“Yeah, and I was born at night, not last night. Each of those crates held fifty bottles of stolen, illegal Romulan ale.” Leonard fingered the glass, holding it up to his nose and inhaling the long forgotten scent. He may have sighed, and he may have groaned just a little before turning back to Mudd.

“Well, what can I say?” Mudd said. “I'm a man with champagne taste and a moonshine pocketbook.”

“Right,” Leonard said with an eye roll as he took his very first sip of bourbon in many months. Closing his eyes, he relished in the burn as the liquid made its way down his throat. He could’ve wept if not for the company sitting beside him. If he thought about where he was, and how long it had been since he’d partaken in this simple pleasure, he was bound to drown his sorrows into the bottom of the bottle. He was on a mission, so the obliteration of his liver would have to wait until he was off this infected station. Once he was his own man again, he intended to wallow in self-pity with a good ol’ bottle of Kentucky bourbon.

“Did Kirk destroy those bottles?” Harry asked. “Please tell me he didn’t, that he at least had the decency to put them to good use.”

“Turned them over to HQ.” Leonard finished off the rest of the drink, his eyes watering just a little, and enjoying the warmth it filled him with.

“Oh, blessed Mary. Suppose it’s somewhat comforting knowing some fat admiral is milking my hard earned money, and sipping away on God’s good ale, rather than floating in the black somewhere.”

“I doubt God had anything to do with it.” Leonard ordered them another drink, paying with the few credits Christine had given him this morning.

"Harry, I need your help."

Harry laughed. “Oh, how the tables have turned. See, I’d like to help you, McCoy, I would, but I’m afraid my good conscience is telling me no.”

“Now, Harry,” Leonard said, like he was channeling Jim Kirk, “I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.”

“Oh, really?” Harry snorted. “Doctor, from the sounds of things, you’ve got nothing to strike a bargain...not even your marbles, apparently.” Harry chuckled at his own joke, then took a sip of his drink.

“How ‘bout your ship back?”

“You mean what’s left of it. I heard all about your captain’s run in on Kronos with the Klingons.”

“I’m sure Scotty fixed it up good as new. How about your ship and some crates of that Romulan Ale? If I recall, I think _,_ confiscated about, what was it? Twenty crates?”

Harry’s mouth flew open in outrage, and his hands came down on the top of the bar. “There were thirty!”

Leonard smiled, then winked at Harry before sipping and savoring more of his precious bourbon.

“Ooh, I knew that Kirk was a sly devil. How do I know you’ll deliver on that deal?”

“You just have to trust me.”

“Ha! You really did scramble that brain of yours.”

“Now look, Harry, you’re stuck on this godforsaken station like the rest of us. Do you want to die here? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t. And unless I can get a message out, that’s what’s going to happen. I’m here to try and stop the epidemic from spreading, but I can’t do it alone, and some people seem intent on keeping us isolated for their ulterior motives.”

“You,” Harry huffed. “You’re the one who’s going to find the cure and save us all?”

“I just might.”

Harry signaled to the bartender. “Make it a double.” He raised the glass to his lips and muttered, “Lord, Almighty. Help us all.”

Leonard really did like Mudd, even if he was a no good double-crossing snake.

“So, who’s the message for?” Mudd asked, but then he realized who Leonard had in mind and started shaking his head. “Oh, no. No way. Damn that man! I swore next time I laid eyes on James T. Kirk I’d stick a phaser in his backside and not think twice. That man’s insufferable. Anyone but him.”

“Harry, you and I know Jim’s the only one capable of getting us out of this mess.”

“Us? You mean _you_. He’d leave me here to rot.”

“I promise you’ll come with us if you do this for me.”

“What makes you think I can help you? An embargo is an embargo. Nothing and no one in, and nothing and no one out. We’re quarantined. Can’t help you.”

“And here I thought you were the sneakiest low down, dirty rotten scoundrel—”

“Doctor, your southern sweet talk won’t work on me. I’ve got to protect that renowned reputation, and trading favors with Starfleet is not good for business.”

“We’re going off radar on this one,” Leonard said, placing a hand on Harry’s arm. “Starfleet can’t know about this. It has to stay between you, me and Jim.”

“Well, isn’t that a cozy trio.” Harry smiled, eyes all bright, then they went dark. “That’s a definite ‘no’ then.”

“You’ll be one of the first to get the vaccine when it becomes available,” Leonard said, but Harry looked skeptical. “I promise.”

“That’s not a _when_ but an _if_.”

“It’s a _when_. It has to be.” Drinking so quickly probably wasn’t the best idea Leonard had as of late. Leonard squeezed the man’s arm, giving away his desperation, and trying to plead with him. “Name your price, and I’ll make sure Jim abides by it.”

Harry still looked skeptical, but eventually it gave way to acceptance. This time when Harry’s eyes lit up they stayed that way. “Well, now come to think of it, doctor, I could use me a new ship...with warp capability, of course. And I’d also like my _thirty_ cases plus five cases interest of God’s fine ale returned to me, and a promise from your captain to turn a blind eye in all my future endeavors.”

Leonard laughed, rubbing his eyes, before swallowing down the last of his drink. “You really are a rascal, aren’t you, Harry?”

“I try to be humble about it.”

If Leonard’s plan didn’t work, it wouldn’t matter what Leonard promised Harry, none of them would be alive to deliver on the deal. And if it did work, Leonard would figure out payment when the time came. Being indebted to a pirate wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him, not after what he’d been through.

“Done.” Leonard stuck his hand out in a gentlemen’s agreement. “Jim will make good on my word. I promise.”

Harry started mumbling something under his breath, something that sounded like a prayer.

 

=/\=

 

It was days before Leonard got some time to himself. He’d forgotten how intense the hours could be when working against a clock. He was nowhere near the zombie-like state he’d been a year ago saving Jim's life. He had help this time, and a mother hen who made sure he took regular breaks. His team was on a twenty-four-hour rotation, which meant Leonard worked non-stop until he felt comfortable to leave them on their own.

The virus was highly infectious with the only saving grace was that it wasn't airborne. It spread through direct contact or droplet transmission, which made Leonard’s life a little easier. It meant they could contain the infected without having to set up airborne isolation rooms, and they wouldn’t have to live in biocontainment suits.

Leonard had been living on stims and coffee, and just like Chapel had predicted, he hadn’t seen his bed since that first night. He wasn't ready to face what he'd been through, and if working was the way to dismiss the nightmares, then he was happy to catch a few hours here and there when the stims wore off. Even those few hours were filled with rivers of blood, and when he'd wake it was sudden and with a strangled cry. He struggled on borrowed energy until Christine threatened to knock him out for good.

“I don’t care what you do or where you go, Leonard, but you’re going to leave this place for at least eight hours.” Her hands were on her hips, and even though he was taller than her by a few inches, it felt like she was towering over him.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before."

Leonard was surprised how quickly and comfortably they could banter. Sometimes it felt too close and too personal. That kind of joking had always been reserved for Jim, not someone he met days ago and who was more than likely an enemy. Regardless of the wall he built around Christine, she was slowly, but undoubtedly knocking it down. If she was Section 31 he was playing right into their hands, and all because a pretty blonde with a great rack and a similar sense of humor got too close.

"You've not been sleeping," Christine said, leveling her voice to a more serious tone. "And the hours you manage to get are restless."

"Spying on me, Christine?"

"Your office is between mine and Geoff's. The walls are thin, Leonard."

He grunted, not admitting to anything.

"I know you think you can't trust us, and that's fine, I understand. But you'd never let one of us handle a deadly virus if we were sleep deprived. You're in desperate need of some rest."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled, looking up from his desk and the PADD he'd been studying.

"Can I prescribe something?" she asked.

"Wouldn't help even if you did." He braced for what was coming next, but once again she surprised him with her candor.

"I won't insult you with an offer to talk about it. You and I both know we're not cut out for it, so all I can offer is a few hours to yourself while we handle things here."

Talking wasn't what he needed, and as much as he needed rest, the only way he'd sleep soundly was knowing if Harry got his message out.

“You’ve got six hours," he said straightening up.

"Make it eight."

"Fine. But you better hope no one screws up.”

"Oh, I don’t know how we’ll manage without you looming over our shoulders, breathing down our necks at every step of the way. But gosh darn it, we’ll try super hard.” Christine did her best imitation of a southern accent. She batted her eyelashes, pushing him toward the door.

As he walked down the hall, she yelled one last order. “And stay away from the bourbon!”

“Well, now, that’s just plain rude,” he smarted back. “What else is a working man supposed to do after a long shift?”

“Sleep, Leonard. Sleep is what you’re looking for.”

“Darlin’,” he smiled, “sleep is the farthest thing on my mind right now.” He was a sucker for witty banter, and she was becoming one of his favorite people to do it with. He hoped to hell she was one of the good guys.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

In ten days, Leonard had lost over three months of his life, and in that time he had gained a wife.

 

=/\=

 

Leonard left Harry's company with a buzz and a smile on his face. Partly because of the booze and the laughs he shared with the man, but mostly from the hope Harry had given him. Harry had arranged to smuggle Leonard's message out, and as far as he knew it had been a success. Leonard celebrated with one too many shots, stumbling his way back to Christine's. For the first time in a long time Leonard felt like the shadows couldn't penetrate his dreams, so he set the shades to black, and crawled into his bed. There was something to be said for clean sheets and soft mattresses, and not long after his head hit the pillow, he was pulled under by exhaustion.

When he woke this time, his screams were piercing and his muscles had seized to the point of pain. The freshly laundered sheets were soaked with his sweat, and his T-shirt and boxers looked no better. Groaning, he looked down at himself, and even though he couldn't see in the dark, he felt the evidence of the good part of the dream before the shadows had invaded it threatening to rip him apart. He didn't know how long he had slept, but his bladder was telling him he'd been asleep for a while. He had to piss, but a raging hard on would make it rather difficult.

His legs felt weighted down with lead, like his body had decided enough and was declaring a strike. He managed to sit up just as the door to his room opened. The light in the hallway left a halo around Christine, making her nightgown somewhat transparent in the glow. She was naked underneath the thin cotton, and despite the subject of Leonard’s dream being quite different than a woman’s silhouette, his cock didn’t seem to care.

“I’m fine, Christine,” he croaked, grabbing a pillow and shifting to hide his erection.

She hesitated, but eventually moved inside, shutting the door and sealing out the light. There were soft footfalls on the carpet as she made her way toward the bed. The mattresses shifted when she sat next to him, and the warmth radiating off her body was a welcome contrast against his sweat-chilled skin. She smelled like he remembered from that first day, of soft petals and antiseptic with a hint of fresh laundry. He took a deep breath, taking in the small amount of comfort she was offering. He didn't want to accept it, but his body was as lonely as he was, and he couldn't do anything to stop from wanting it. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, rubbing and soothing the remnants of the nightmares that were still haunting him.

"Christine," he whispered, but made no effort to move away. It had been too long since he'd felt the intimacy of someone's touch. His body was desperate for so much more and he hated himself for seeking it out.

"Shh," she hushed, moving her hand lower until she took hold of the pillow sitting on his lap. "It's okay, Leonard." She laid her head on his shoulder while he other hand wrapped around his back and came to rest on the side of his neck. He wasn't sure if this was to soothe him or to stop him from jumping when her other hand continued its path lower and on to his thigh. Her movements were calculated yet calming, inching her way back up his leg until he knew what was coming next. He tried not to flinch, but months of latency meant he was sitting in the dark with an over sensitive and highly, needy cock.

His groan was involuntary, and if she hushed him again he didn't hear it through the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He needed more, and when she lifted the band of his boxers and flesh met flesh he bit his lip to hold back a curse. She ran her thumb over the tip then gripped him hard, and his intake of breath was sharp and pure until dizziness forced him to let it out slowly with a moan.

He hated what those bastards had reduced him to. This wasn't who he was. He was broken. They had deprived him of touch, left him weak and needy and the last thing he wanted was pity.

"I can't..." he managed.

She quieted him again, and then began stroking. "Let me."

The hand wasn't right, it was too small, too delicate and smooth. It was different than the one in his dream, but the tenderness of the touch was the only thing keeping him from pulling away. The hand knew what he needed, and with every stroke, Leonard felt the shadows retreating to their places in the corners of his mind.

Christine's movements weren't about love or lust, they felt almost clinical. She didn't kiss him, or want anything from him in return. She simply gave him what he needed, holding him until his breaths came quick and harsh. When he came, there was relief in his release riddled with shame. His tears came just as hot and fast as his climax, spilling their way onto Christine's cotton nightgown. Her whispered words were lost through his sobs, and he was only aware of her lips at his temple before she quietly slipped out of the room.


	15. =/15\=

Leonard had it all worked out in his head. When he woke, he had a long shower, digested what happened, and thought of a way to apologize to Christine. He couldn't explain the despair he was experiencing, she wouldn't understand what he'd gone through, not when she didn't truly believe him. Medically, he recognized the signs of post-traumatic stress. Even though his captivity wasn't traumatic in terms of pain or torture, the kind of isolation he endured was a kind of hurt he didn't know how to heal. Whatever Section 31's intentions were, they sure as hell managed to mess with his head.

He had dreamt of lively blue eyes and full lips, and actions that moved beyond hesitant first kisses. They were the reasons he woke up hard. His dreams always led him to an orchard surrounded by luscious green trees and clear blue skies. He tasted sweet tea on his lips, smelled fresh Georgia peaches in the early summer, and just when he thought he was alone, warm, firm hands reached around him, pulling him flush against a strong chest. The sun grew brighter, the smells stronger and the world seemed to stop spinning on its axis. He breathed a little easier, like he'd been drugged with a burst of pure oxygen.

Leonard never turned around in his dreams, no matter how hard he tried something always prevented it. The more he struggled, the quicker the skies turned black and the smell of fresh peaches turned rotten. Sometimes he stopped trying, resolved to soak up the feel of those hands, and the solid sense of peace they brought. While the Earth stood still for those few precious moments, he was surrounded by the familiarity of the orchard and the past. He breathed deeply, convincing himself he was happy even if it was plagued by the emptiness of space.

The black still came, an ominous force bigger than any tornado the Earth had seen. It ripped apart the farm and everything he loved, including those steadfast hands wrapped around him. Leonard was left floating in the nothingness, his soul twisting inside out with the knowledge that everyone he loved was gone.

When he woke, clutching at his chest, the fear of being left behind, forgotten by everyone, sparked a deep sorrow within. He'd lost everything, and any chance at a connection with someone had passed. He wanted more than suspicious conversations with strangers. He wanted to trust again, but his sensibilities were telling him otherwise. He was no longer in a prison of isolation, but his solitude wasn't over.

Christine's delicate fingers weren't the ones he wanted to feel. She was a caregiver though, so she could sympathize with the notion of healing. The warmth of her hands, that simple touch had pulled him back from the edge, even if he was ashamed by it. The bottom line was that she had cared for him in a time of need, and he wasn't talking sexually, either. If she would be professional about this, then he would too. All he could do was apologize and hope if didn't sound pathetic and strange.

Despite the humiliation, he did feel better this morning, lighter and more rested. He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke to the simulated sunlight, somehow things seemed brighter. He left his shame on the pillow, and showered away his guilt. As he walked down the hall, he heard humming coming from the kitchen. Frowning, he forged ahead knowing he had to get this over with sooner rather than later.

"I warned you I wasn't much of a cook," Christine said as he stepped beyond the shadow of the hallway, "but I make a good cup of coffee and decent poached eggs." She poured a cup, setting it on the counter in front of the empty stool.

Leonard stopped mid-stride feeling himself flush from head toe. His apologetic plans got stuck in his throat.

"Oh, I forgot." Christine reached for the mug of coffee, waving a hand in his direction. "You like to make your own." She started to take the cup away, but Leonard's instincts finally kicked and he found his voice.

"No." He jolted forward, then stopped. A quietness rested between them for a few beats, until eventually Leonard was compelled to break it before it broke him.

"Thank you, Christine." His sincerity and meaning was transparent, at least he hoped so.

"You're welcome, Leonard," she said softly.

He couldn't look at her, even though he felt her eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he reached for the mug. Leonard waited for her to say something else, but she only smiled, passing him the mug. The tightness in his chest relaxed enough to let him sit down on the stool.

"Lissan had some progress yesterday," Christine said, passing him a plate and sitting beside him.

"She did?"

"Lissan is very intelligent."

"Yeah, that seems to be my luck," Leonard mumbled. "Geniuses everywhere I turn."

"Well, before the outbreak she was studying antivirals."

"I thought she was a hematologist?"

"She is." Christine said it with more of a question than Leonard would have liked. He waited for her to continue, only offering his eyebrow in protest. "She's been expanding her knowledge, looking to specialize in gene therapy."

"Is that right?" He crossed his arms. "Might've been helpful to know this."

"She doesn't have a Ph.D., or even a degree in it, she just likes to study a lot."

"Get to the point," he said.

"Well, you did say we should think outside of the box for this disease."

"Within limits, Christine. Limits."

Christine took another sip, clearly stalling from telling Leonard something he probably wasn't going to like.

"I know when I'm being played, so stop messing around and spit it out," he demanded.

Her gaze was fixed on a spot over his shoulder. If she couldn't look at him, he definitely wasn't going to like this. "She wants to try gene encoding. Specifically, homing endonucleases."

"That barbaric practice from the turn of the millennium?" Leonard just about spilled his coffee in his lap. "Where the hell did she get this idea? Of all the crazy, ridiculous things I've ever heard. The errors and variances are far too great of a risk. Targeting specific DNA sequences? That's exactly what brought on the Eugenics War! Damn it, Christine. Do you have any idea what you two are even thinking?" Leonard's stomach sank, the little coffee he drank turned to lead as his words caught up to him.

DNA targeting was a Eugenics thing, which meant it was a Khan thing, and by default Section 31.

His hands started to shake. He shoved them in his lap away from the watchful eye of the traitor sitting beside him. He wanted so much to believe Christine was on his side. Everything she'd done up to this point had shown him she was, but his gran always warned him about flies and honey. He should've known better.

"Leonard, if she can make it work, why can't she try it? You could help her. Guide her through it."

The total isolation might have been the better of the two punishments. At least in a cell there was no risk of getting attached to anyone, learn to trust and feel on ounce of hope only to have it shattered with betrayal.

He was truly alone, and he'd do well to remember that.

"Leonard?"

"Don't pander to me, Christine." He sighed, resolved to his fate. "I don't give a damn what you and Lissan, or the rest of you want to do in terms of experimentation. I won't be a part of it. I'll only ask that you follow the containment protocols I laid out. That's my only demand." Rising, he pushed the plate away, not having the stomach for it despite how good it looked. "You can try and sweeten the pot all you want. Hand jobs, blow jobs, breakfast, I don't give a damn, but you people will never convince me to play god!"

He walked out the door with his shoulders straight and his chin held high. These assholes were going to have to do more than this to break him.

 

=/\=

 

Leonard walked the streets for a while. It was easy to see the ramifications of the disease everywhere. There were shops boarded up, armed guards at the food markets and propaganda posters about the disease hanging in every window. The people on this station were dying, that hadn't been a lie even if everything else on Axius V was, and the lies probably included Harry Mudd. He might have been the galaxy's best scoundrel, but he was no lover of Starfleet. He would have done it for a price, unless he'd been coerced into helping Section 31, a way to be released from the institution. It seemed elaborate, but these people were innovative in the ways of torture.

Leonard hadn't said much in the transmission to Jim, a private message only he would understand, but the betrayal left him feeling like a fool. If they wanted Genesis, they'd have to do it without him. He would find a cure for the people on this station, and he'd find it his own way.

He expected Christine to be waiting for him when he returned to his office. She was resting against the desk with her arms folded, looking capable of murder and he was her next victim. He ignored her, having nothing to say to her, and instead reached for his lab coat hanging beside the door. He might not have wanted to talk, but she had a hell of a lot to say to him.

Leonard felt the sting on his cheek, well before he heard the slap. His eyes went wide, and he started to protest, but then heard another thwack and the same sting across his cheek. She managed to get three solid hits in before he took a step back to avoid her swinging hand.

"The only thing I came to say to you, _Dr. McCoy_ , is to tell you that you are a brilliant doctor, one I’ve admired for years, but you are a horrible, _horrible_ human being.” Her shoulders were square, her nostrils flared and her eyes were on fire with hatred reserved for the devil.

His left cheek was numb, and he tasted blood. As much as he wanted to rub feeling back into it, he kept his hands at his sides. His anger was surfacing to match Christine's, but the men in the McCoy family didn't hit women, even if she deserved a taste of her own medicine.

“Lady, I don’t give a damn what you think of me. You can take your pity, your fake kindness, and your goddamn orders and shove them up your ass!” His voice echoed off the walls of the tiny room.

“Fake pity? You think what I did—what that was,” she gestured between the two of them, “were orders? Who the hell would be giving me orders? You think I'm some common whore who’s being told what to do?”

“Prostitution’s legal on Earth," Leonard said with smugness in his voice, "and I guess it runs rife in Starfleet Intelligence.”

She went to hit him again, yelling her frustration at him, but he ducked this time, and she missed.

“You really are an insufferable asshole! Mean doesn’t even begin to cover what you are. You’re crazy! You really are insane and belong in that institution!”

“It’s not being mean, Christine. It’s called self-preservation. I’m not a pawn in this game of chess you’re all playing. This is my _life_! And I had a damn good one where people actually cared about me and you stole it from me.”

Her anger seemed to falter. It was her turn to take a step back, and she sighed when she did. She turned her back to him, taking a few deep breaths before she faced him again. Her eyes were softer now, filled with moisture and Leonard hated to see that even more.

"Don't you _dare_ pity me, Chapel." His finger was raised, inches from her face. "You can't be a part of this and look at me like that. It doesn't work that way. I don't fucking need it. Do your goddamn job, and I'll do mine. If that's not what these assholes want, then they'll have to beam down here and tell me otherwise."

Christine took a tentative step toward him, only to have Leonard step back in response. "Oh, Leonard," she said softly, shaking her head. “At some point you’re going to have to trust someone.”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t be you. Do you think I don’t know you work for them? DNA targeting is what _they_ do. And you just casually slip that into a conversation this morning after I laid myself bare last night?”

“What are you talking about, you old fool?”

“Section 31, Christine. Let’s stop pretending. This, all of this,” he swept his arm out, “has been an elaborate setup to get me to cooperate. Hell, even sending me to Harry Mudd. You’ve done your research, I’ll give you that, knowing I had history with the man, so I’d put a little bit of trust in him. Get my hopes up that he'd reach Jim, and get me the hell out of here. I have to admit, that,” he shook his finger at her, “was a nice touch.”

“Jim?” she asked, and he could tell she truly was confused. “Jim who?” Then she must have connected the dots. “Kirk? Captain Kirk of the _Enterprise_?”

He rolled his eyes, not letting her theatrics get to him. “Who else?”

“Why would you need to contact him?” She folded her arms in an act of defiance. “How could he possibly help? He’s nothing more than a playboy with a fancy ship.”

Leonard felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the insults. “That _fancy_ ship and _playboy_ captain are the only hope in hell we have of evacuating this station. I've seen what it's like out there. We can get the healthy children and families off this disease-ridden station. I don’t know why in hell Starfleet hasn’t done it yet, but it’s all a goddamn tragedy." He ran his hands through his hair. "We can screen the uninfected, and put them up in refugee camps on another planet instead of leaving them here to die. This infection is going to spread until it becomes so out of control the entire station will be lost. _That’s_ what that captain and his ship can do!”

Christine was looking at him like he truly had lost his mind. She shook her head and made a sound in her throat that registered as disbelief. Reaching for a PADD on his desk, she tapped away on the screen while still shaking her head back and forth. When she found what she was looking for she shoved it in his face.

"The only thing your precious captain is capable of doing right now is picking out china patterns, and narrowing down vanilla or lemon for his cake. He's too busy planning the wedding of the century to be the savior of the galaxy again." Christine's voice was filled with disgust, and she waited for Leonard to fully digest this bit of news before she said anything else.

Leonard's eyes flitted over the screen, still not understanding. The screen displayed some kind of digital invitation, white and gold, interactive with some kind of chimes. As it unfolded, he realized the sound wasn't chimes, but bells. Wedding bells to be exact.

When the invitation animation had finished, he was left with an image of the happy couple filling the screen. A double vision of blond hair and blue eyes, except one pair was inherently female while the other was so heartbreakingly familiar, Leonard's knees buckled forcing him to sit down.

_You are cordially invited_

_to celebrate the wedding of_

_Doctor Carol Janet Wallace_

_and_

_Captain James Tiberius Kirk_

_Saturday, the seventh of April_

_at six o'clock in the evening_

_St. Mary's Catholic Church_

_360 Washburn Street_

_Riverside, Iowa_

    

Jim was getting married. To Carol Marcus.

"Dr. McCoy," Christine said softly. "I'm not your enemy. No one here is. At some point you're just going to have to trust in that." She sounded as deflated as Leonard felt.

The nothingness came once again, only this time he didn't fight it. He no longer had it in him. There wasn't anything to fight for. He was going to die on this station, or Section 31 was going to break him so thoroughly he was going to wish he was dead and it wouldn't matter because there was no one left to remember him.

His eyes were stuck to the screen, memorizing the laugh lines on Jim's face, and he couldn't look away from Jim’s shining eyes. Leonard's heart was breaking all over again, just like the day Jim had died, only this time he couldn't fight death to win him back. Jim was truly gone, and he just had to accept it and finally let him go.

Leonard didn't hear Christine open the door, but she said one last thing before leaving, and he heard that loud and clear.

“Ruthers is dead.”


	16. =/16\=

For the first time since Leonard had been hauled in front of the three admirals, he entertained the thought of replicating the serum. All these pointless deaths were on him. He knew that, and if he could end all of this suffering on Axius V, why shouldn't he do it? He had saved one man, bringing him back from the dead, and what made his life more deserving than the thousands on this station? A year ago, Leonard knew exactly why he'd risked everything to bring Jim back. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Jim had moved on. The reality of that was harder to accept than his current predicament. Who would care if he surrendered to Section 31 and gave them what they wanted? He could say goodbye to his old life, make a new one with Starfleet Intelligence. He didn't have to play by their rules. He could make his own, and provide the serum with limitations. Maybe it didn't have to be all or none, and he could make a few demands of his own before his surrender. His career was over, there was nothing left for him on Earth, not really. Section 31 was never going to let him go, and if they did, his friends will have moved on to their next missions, and moved on with their lives.

It had been one hell of a long day, and considering his history of long days, this one still held up. A knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts. Knowing who it was, he ignored it, not in the mood for another argument. It was seven hours until the next scheduled check-in with Starfleet. He wondered how he had to surrender. Would this end if he asked to speak with Admiral Cartwright, if he volunteered to cooperate? He imagined an empty gray room with Section 31 officers swarming in.

The knocking persisted.

“Don’t make me bust this door down.” The voice was muffled, and as irritated as the knocking.

"Enter," he said giving in, and the door slid open at the acknowledgement of his voice.

“Wallowing time is up.” Christine was on the other side, dressed in casual, civilian clothing. Her eyes were red rimmed, and her cheeks puffy, but she was stoic as she crossed his office threshold. In her hands was a bottle of brandy.

"This is a one-time thing," she said. "I never condone getting drunk, but on this occasion I'm going to need something more than replicated warm milk."

Since she had shoved the wedding invitation in his face, they hadn’t spoken other than the occasional professional exchange. They had kept things civil and to the point when they needed to interact, but other than that, they hadn't spoken of anything personal all day.

As she sat on the other end of the sofa, Leonard thought she was a sight for sore eyes. He didn't want to be alone anymore, and if he was going to surrender himself to Cartwright, he wanted to be drunk when he did it.

Axius V had given him a sense of control, but he had no more power here than he did in that cell where cameras watched his every move. There was a fist wrapped around his heart, squeezing it slowly and painfully until it felt like he was suffocating. There was nothing left to do. He would give the bastards who’d stolen his life what they wanted. They had finally broken him.

"Truce?" she asked, holding up two small glasses.

"Truce," he said, his voice a little rough from lack of use.

They sipped for some time without speaking. It wasn't uncomfortable, Leonard believed they were beyond that now. Ruthers' death had temporarily patched up any misbegotten feelings between them. Loneliness was a dark abyss, and Christine—even if she was a traitor—was a tiny beacon of shining light, which was more than anyone had been in months.

"Christine," he started to say.

"Please don't, Leonard," she whispered. "Let's just drink to a woman who didn't deserve any of this." She raised her glass toward Leonard, expecting him to toast it. He left her arm hanging in midair, until eventually he swallowed his pride, clinking his glass with hers.

After everything he’d said and done to Christine, she was the person in a long time who seemed to understand him. They were one and the same, only she was a much better version than he ever would be.

"You're right," he said, "she didn't deserve this, and it's all my fault."

“You didn’t start those riots at the supply depots. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time. What happened has been brewing for days.”

He may not have been directly responsible for her death, but his presence on this station had played a part. He had stood in the conference room looking Ruthers in the eye, promising her he would get her safely off this station. She may not have liked him, but she had put her trust in him to follow through on his word and he had failed her.

“But I’m the reason you’re all still here. Why Ruthers is dead and thousands more may die.”

Her lip curled up slightly, before taking another sip. "You're not a god, Leonard."

He chuckled at that, grabbing the bottle from her hand, and topped up his drink. "Well, I know that, and you know that, but it seems some very important assholes think I can play at being a god."

For the first time since she sat down, she turned to look at him. "Is this where you tell me about Section 31 again, Leonard? Because I'm not drunk enough, yet."

"No, Christine," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, "this is where I start believing you're not the enemy, and we learn to trust each other implicitly."

This time he had her undivided attention.

"John Harrison was not a disgruntled Starfleet officer turned terrorist," Leonard said with brevity. "He was a genetically-engineered human augment from the twentieth century, named Khan Noonien Singh. A by-product from the Eugenics War." He waited for her to mock him like the other times he mentioned Section 31, but she kept quiet, entertaining his confession a while longer.

"There's a clandestine branch in Starfleet Intelligence called Section 31, which claims to protect the security interests of the Federation. Former Fleet Admiral Marcus led this organization and all of its research." Leonard filled Christine in on the parts he knew and the events kept from the public. He detailed the attack, leaving nothing out, breaching his gag order and the directive he signed to keep it classified. When he got to the point where the _Enterprise_ was caught in Earth's gravity, he had to pause for a moment. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until Christine took them into her own.

“The captain was dead,” Leonard managed to say. “Jim was dead. The entire compartment was flooded with radiation. His cells were poisoned. I'd called his death myself."

"But," Christine said, squeezing his hand, "he's very much alive." He heard the uncertainty, and before she jumped to the conclusion that he really was crazy, he offered up the rest.

"It was Khan's blood. In layman's terms, it's superhuman blood. Its properties can be synthesized into a serum. A damn powerful serum that can cure pretty much everything, including death."

She gulped what was left of her drink, then poured them another. The more he talked, the more they drank, and the more his tongue loosened up. He talked of his dismissal from Starfleet, his summons and incarceration, and then went into painful detail about his three months in isolation. He didn’t tell her how he arrived at a viable serum, but he disclosed everything else, including why he wouldn’t compromise his convictions. It was cathartic even if she didn’t believe him, probably picking out bits and pieces of the truth along the way.

When he finished with how he woke on the biobed, he stood to stretch his legs making it seem casual he was avoiding her eyes.

"And here I am," Leonard said. "I don't know if they created this disease or not. I sure as hell hope not, but regardless, I think they've isolated us like this in the hopes I'll give them what they want. I'm no narcissist, Christine, but all of this, Ruthers, and all those people in quarantine are dying because of me. I can stop all of this, but I can't give them the ultimate power to give life and to take it away.”

Leonard smiled thinking about something from the past. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said under his breath, shaking his head. "'The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few.'” When he turned toward Christine, he was wary, but felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

"You can choose to believe me or not, Christine. I've confessed all that I know, take it or leave it." He sat back down, crossing his legs with indifference.

The room was bathed in silence with only the hum of the lights filling the void. This was where she’d either write him off for good, or come clean about who she worked for. Regardless, he’d put the truth out there, unabashed and raw. It was up to her what to do with it.

"I believe you."

She didn't ask any further questions or demand clarification, she simply told him she had faith in him. It confirmed what he dreaded: she was his enemy.

"That's it? You believe me." He put his head in his hands and muttered under his breath. “Of course you do. I should’ve know.”

"Yes, Leonard, I do. And not because of what you think."

"Not that I don’t appreciate your willingness to believe me, but why?"

"You're forgetting I served aboard the _Enterprise_. I saw things and did things I'd never believe if I hadn't been there to witness them. I know what that crew and ship are capable of. I know what _you're_ capable of."

He must have been shooting her a look of skepticism, for as much as Leonard wanted her to believe him, it all seemed a little too easy.

"Fine," she huffed, rubbing her hands on her thighs. "I suppose it's my turn for a little confession."

He took a deep breath, bracing for the truth he had been avoiding. This was where she would tell him it was futile to resist the demands of their organization.

"I have that wedding invitation because I've been friends with Carol since our Academy days," she confessed, and it was the last thing he expected to hear. "I've known her for years. We were roommates."

" _You're_ the roommate?" Leonard asked, eyes wide with shock. "That means you...you know Jim."

She grunted, and dismissed him with a wave. "Yes, I'm _that_ roommate. And yes, I, along with half the Academy, slept with Jim Kirk."

Leonard started to laugh, and she folded her arms in irritation. She really was just another version of himself. "This still doesn't explain why you believe me now, and not before.”

“While you talked, I listened. I watched _you,_ Leonard,” she said. “And when you spoke of what you did for Jim, I saw what his death had cost you. You wear your feelings on your sleeve. And I can recognize a Jim Kirk broken heart when I see one. He does that to people. He sucks them in, and spits them out."

“Let me get this straight. You believe me because of a goddamn Broken Hearts Club?”

“Well, that, and I always hated that bastard Alexander Marcus. He was a certifiable power-hungry jackass.”

Leonard choked on his drink, coughed for a spell, then raised his glass to her and smiled. “Amen.”

“Amen.” She clinked his glass. “All those dinners I had with Carol and her father, there was something wrong with that man. Never could put my finger on it. Always thought it was because Carol was so desperate for his attention, but now, well, it all makes sense. Arrogant asshole was a warmonger.”

“You think Marcus was bad, you should’ve met Khan.” Leonard shivered, before sipping. “He was terrifying, and what he did to Marcus, well, as much as he was a bastard, no one deserved to go the way he did. I can’t imagine what that did to Carol, seeing her father’s demise like that.”

Christine sighed deeply. She had a far-off look in her eyes, and when Leonard thought she might speak of her friend and the upcoming nuptials, she surprised Leonard once again.

"I get it, Leonard, I really do," she said. "You're still the man I remember."

"To tell you the truth, Christine, I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're a man who stands by his convictions with compassion. There's nothing you wouldn't do for the people you care about. I saw it on the _Enterprise_. You put everyone else's needs before your own, and that's what you're doing now, even if you don't believe it." She placed her hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We'll find that cure."

"And then what?" Leonard asked. "They won't stop until I give them what they want. It's only a matter of time until they find something that'll break me."

"Then those Section 31 assholes will have to answer to me."

Leonard chuckled, conjuring up an image of Christine slapping his abductors. She did have a mighty good swing, but he wasn't going to let her get tangled up in this web of conspiracies. He wouldn't see her get hurt.

Slowly, she pushed off the sofa, rising and stretching her arms up to the ceiling. “How about you put that bed of yours to use?”

Leonard’s eyes went wide, then his eyebrow went up in question. His glass was halfway to his mouth when it froze.

“Oh, relax, you fool. I meant to sleep. Your back has only started to recover from that week of sleeping here.” She nodded at the sofa. “Since you arrived, you’ve done nothing but remind us you’re old. That sofa did nothing for your posture in dispelling that argument. I think we could both use a good night’s sleep.”

He looked at the clock. The Starfleet transmission was a few hours away. One more day, he thought. I’ll give it one more, and tomorrow if he still felt the need to surrender, he would do it while he was sober, and do it because it was the right thing, not the easy thing to do.

“Fine. But we're taking the brandy,” he declared, and then winked at Christine.

 

=/\=

 

They continued to drown their sorrows on the sofa in front of the fireplace. They regaled tales from the Academy, and wallowed in the rules of the Jim Kirk Broken Hearts Club. Christine was rather vocal in what she thought of her friend marrying someone like the playboy captain, and Leonard, with his own heartache to share, did nothing to sway her from her opinion.

"How could she possibly _think_ he would settle down? If the engagement wasn't so long, I would've thought she was knocked up." Christine was starting to slur her words.

"That bastard broke his promise. He left me in that cell to rot," Leonard said. The heat from the fire, and the brandy had set his cheeks aflame. He shouldn't talk about Jim, but his engagement to Carol felt a little duplicitous, and the bitterness was sour on his tongue. "He told me he'd find me, and here I am, still a prisoner."

"You're not a prisoner, Leonard."

He scoffed. "Darlin', it's still a cell, just a different view." Leonard tipped the empty bottle in his glass, and before he could complain, Christine handed him a new one with bright green liquid sloshing inside. He poured, spilling a few drops into the white carpet, but Christine didn't seem to care.

Leonard wanted to rage, but he was far too drunk to be angry. He would have to settle for being maudlin. Figuring out what Jim meant to him wasn't supposed to hurt so damn much. He'd lost him without a fight, and the love and hate he was feeling waged a battle inside him, and he didn't know which would win.

"We weren't finished," he said under his breath. "He gave up before we had a chance."

Christine put her arm around him, kissing his temple, a drunken attempt, but he took it, and rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm going to die out here, Christine, and he'll never know."

She did her best to comfort him, gently rubbing his back. "Jim Kirk is not the kind of man who's meant for love, Leonard.”

He knew the truth to that even if he didn’t want to hear it. They sat in silence until the comfort she was offering turned to caresses, and it wasn't long before their grief took hold of them, pushing them toward Christine's bed where they ended up in a pile of naked limbs.

When they woke with nothing but the sheets between them, they knew it was a mistake. It didn’t stop it from happening again before they showered, or the next night when they came home from work exhausted and melancholy. Neither of them would call it heart stopping or planets aligning, but Leonard decided it was enough for now. They didn’t cuddle or spoon afterward, both of them keeping to their own side of the bed, but with Christine beside him these last two nights, Leonard no longer woke in a pool of sweat from the shadows in his dreams.


	17. =/17\=

Leonard had an ally in Christine and it had nothing to do with her insisting he find a cure on his own terms. The night spent with Christine had gained him some perspective. The news of Jim's upcoming nuptials had been devastating, of course, but in some odd way it seemed to balance his world. He had been holding on to his past so tightly, he had been one twist away from snapping. He could let go of the past, focus on what he needed to do, and start planning for a new future, different from the one Section 31 had stolen from him. He had pined for Jim for far too long, it was time he claimed his life back. He just hoped to hell he was betting on the right horse with Christine.

Finding his own cure meant he had to be willing to examine all possible theories, including ones that toed the line of ethical practices. He'd done it once before with miraculous results, perhaps this time, under a different context the results would prove just as fruitful.

"Dr. McCoy?"

He lifted his head from the microscope, focusing on the Andorian in front of him.

"Dr. McCoy?" she asked again.

"Yes, what can I do for you, Lissan?"

"Are you unwell, doctor? I was calling your name." She was looking at him with watchful eyes.

"I'm fine. Just lost in my thoughts." He smiled, tapping the side of his temple.

"I believe I am supposed to apologize to you." She said it with a matter of fact tone, looking at him expectantly.

"Whatever for?"

"I would not have gone ahead with the trials without asking for your permission first. It was something I had hoped to try. As you humans say, it was a 'shot in the dark.'"

Leonard was starting to feel like an ass again. "Did Christine speak with you?"

"She did, but I did not wish to approach you. It seemed inappropriate with the news of Margo’s death." Lissan blinked at him with wide expectant eyes.

"Of course, Lissan. I'm awful sorry about your friend."

"Thank you."

"What did Christine tell you?"

"She informed me, and forgive me, doctor, I was unaware of this saying until the other day, but she said you had a 'conniption' when she mentioned homing endonucleases."

"She did, did she?"

"She did. And I do not wish to cause any tension between you and Dr. Chapel."

"What's between Dr. Chapel and me is none of your business, darlin'." He was smiling when he said it, but it didn't matter, because Lissan didn't take offense to it. He almost wished he could run some blood tests on her. He swore there was some Vulcan in her lineage somewhere, which was unlikely since the two races still carried some umbrage for each other.

"You never have to apologize to me for wanting to try something new," Leonard said. "I'll welcome any idea, even the ridiculous, barbaric ones. Crazy seems to work well around here, maybe we should just go with it. Wouldn't you agree, Lissan?"

She smiled, and it was only then Leonard believed her blue blood wasn't mixed with the green stuff. She was a serious being, reminded him a lot of Spock, only in the two years Leonard had known Spock, he’d never seen anything resemble a smile on the Vulcan’s face.

Lissan was young, and still had the ambition and determination of someone willing to take chances to achieve results. Leonard had to admire her for her optimism. He shouldn’t be the one to stifle a desire to make the world a better place, and he’d do well to remember that.

"I think it's time to visit the quarantined infirmaries," Leonard said, rocking on his heels. "Would you care to join me? You can present me with some of your research and the methods you wish to use along the way. We can select some samples from some viable test subjects."

Her eyes lit up as her antennae bent in acknowledgement. She threw her arms around Leonard, hugging him tight like the ones he used to reserve for his gran.

"Okay. Okay," he said, holding on to his emotions. "And here I thought Andorians were more like Vulcans.” He backed away, releasing himself from her grip.

Tilting her head to the side, her elation disappeared. “Why ever would you think that, Dr. McCoy?”

Leonard laughed, raising his hands in the air with a shrug. “Believe me, I have no idea. Come on. Let's see what we need to do to get out of here.”

 

=/\=

 

It took a few days to organize, mostly to arrange the mandatory guards Christine and M’Benga insisted accompany them. After the riots at the supply depot, and with threats of more riots toward the station's center, lockdowns had occurred in sensitive areas. Lissan spent the journey detailing the methods she hoped to use. He listened with an open mind, and was happy for the distraction while they traveled with an armed escort through the streets with people watching them.

When they arrived at the quarantined facility, Leonard was lost for words. The magnitude to which this disease had taken hold hadn’t fully registered until now. There were hundreds of people camped out at the entrance to the hospital. Cook fires and spices mixed with the smell of sewage and rot, and everywhere Leonard looked, there were faces stained with tears. People were waiting for news of their loved ones, hoping to get in to visit, and there were others too stricken with grief to let go.

“Why are they here?” Leonard asked, turning in a circle to get the full scope. “This isn’t procedure for a quarantine. They shouldn’t be here.”

One of the guards shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no one to enforce it. Troops are too busy keeping the peace and guarding the gates. And the rest are trying to round up the sick. You want to tell these people they can’t stay here?”

“They tried at first,” Lissan offered, “but they would not leave. It was easier to let them stay.”

“This is madness.”

“It is, Dr. McCoy,” Lissan said, heading toward the gate.

Without Starfleet's help, the station was inflicting its own martial law however it seemed capable of handling an epidemic. These crowds were raw, and forcing them to go home would push them toward violence. Grief was powerful. It would only take one person to set off an unruly crowd—like dropping a match on dry tinder.

What these people didn’t understand, or maybe they did, was that once their loved ones entered through the gates, they would never see them again. The Red Death was fatal. It held illimitable dominion over them all, and attacked without discrimination, imposing darkness and decay until it would devastate the entire space station.

Apart from the infected, the only people allowed into the facility were military forces and medical personnel. Despite his uneasy concerns, Leonard was impressed by the security protocol that had been put in place from his directive. He’d been on Axius V a few weeks and this was his first time in one of the quarantine zones. He’d conferenced with the staff on comms since the initial meeting, but he wasn’t here to help the dying. Leonard was charged with finding the antiviral to save the living.

Leonard and Lissan went through the decontamination sonics, and then changed into protective gear, before following a member of the administrative staff to the office of the woman in charge.

She sat behind a desk surrounded with boxes on all sides of it. PADDS were scattered across her desk, as well as four half empty coffee mugs resting on the surface. She was dressed in the same protective gear they were wearing, so Leonard wasn't sure if she was the woman he'd been speaking to daily over the comms.

"Dr. Tonkin?” Leonard asked by way of greeting, and she nodded but didn't meet his outstretched hand. He followed her eyes as they glanced at his gloved hand. "Right. Forgive me," he said, letting his arm fall to his side. "This is my colleague, Lissan."

"Yes, I remember." Tonkin turned briefly to Lissan, but didn't offer anything further. "Where's my cure, McCoy?" she asked, cutting straight to the point. Her eyes were hard and accusing.

"We're working on it," he said.

"Not quick enough." He thought she might have smiled, but he couldn't be sure with the protective mask covering half of her face.

"As I said earlier, we're hoping to take samples from the newly infected for trials."

"Fine," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "We have them isolated on the top floor. As symptoms progress, we move the patients down. It's easier that way. Keeping the newly infected away from the patients whose symptoms have progressed helps to keep things somewhat stable around here. The final stages, well, it's better the lucid patients don't see. They don't need a reminder of what they'll inevitably end up like."

"Smart," Leonard said with a bob of his head, even if it was morbid.

Tonkin snorted with an eye roll added in for Leonard's benefit. "You're not the only intellects around here." She fixed him with a piercing stare. He could feel her animosity, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset by it. She was here in the trenches, facing this every day, patients young and old, and probably people she knew while she had been stationed here. Leonard was safely distanced from it all. There were no faces to this disease for Leonard.

"Look, Dr. Tonkin," Leonard said, "we're going to beat this." He met her accusatory glare with conviction in his eyes. "I won't fail."

She sighed, and stood up. "I know, Dr. McCoy. I know who you are."

To break the tension, Lissan cleared her throat. "May I take samples from patients who have fully progressed, as well?"  

"Of course," Tonkin said, waving her gloved hand. "Although we already sent our daily samples to your people this morning."

"Thank you, yes," Lissan said. "I'm looking for subjects with mutated mitochondrial DNA."

Tonkin's eyes narrowed at Lissan's request, tilting her head to the side, she started nodding. "Well, that's new. Why?"

"Forgive me, Dr. Tonkin, but we do not have the luxury of time to explain my reasons to you."

"Lissan—" Leonard began, but Tonkin held up a hand.

"It's fine, McCoy. I think we're all past the point of formalities. I only ask you to remain with your escorts at all times."

They left Dr. Tonkin's office with three new escorts, leaving the ones that came with them behind. The doors opened revealing a large, sweeping room filled with single cots. There were no biobeds on this floor, no high-tech equipment, only rows and rows of beds. The floor smelled of sickness and sweat, but the smell of death didn't linger in the air—he supposed that smell was reserved for the lower floors. It was bright with the windows providing most of the light at this time of day. What he did notice was the lack of privacy for any of the patients. They were laid out row by row, packed in like sardines.

Leonard exchanged pleasantries with Dr. Tonkin as they walked along the floor in between the rows. "How many beds?"

"This floor? We have seventy-six, and more are coming every day."

Seventy-six souls who looked relatively healthy but had been handed a death sentence the moment they entered. "Is it progressing?"

"Not that we've noticed," she said. "It hits some harder than others. As you know, the incubation period is two to seventeen days. Once they develop symptoms, it’s quick—anywhere from five to ten days with one hundred percent fatality."

Leonard purposely hadn't visited any of the quarantine centers. He needed to keep his perspective, and he knew himself well enough that if he fell down that hole of caring for a patient, he'd never get out.

They walked from patient to patient, Leonard avoiding their eyes, and hoping to find what they were searching for. Patients asked questions, mostly inquiring how long they were going to have to be there. He focused on Dr. Tonkin’s voice while she spoke of the treatments that seemed to offer the most comfort to the patients. Leonard never realized Lissan wasn't following them until he heard her voice from a few rows away.

"Dr. McCoy?" Lissan called out. She was standing in front of a bed with a patient's chart in her hand. The patient was sitting on her knees, fidgeting in her bed and shaking her head while she gestured with her hands.

Leonard swiftly maneuvered through the tightly packed beds. "What'd you find?"

"I would like samples from this patient."

It was a well-known fact Leonard's bedside manner was atrocious, however, Lissan easily won this round. Lissan's behavior was scaring the woman, enough to start causing a scene. It was obvious Lissan had never interacted with patients before.

"It's okay," Leonard said to the woman with his arms raised. "We only want to take some blood samples." As he read her chart, he realized his words fell on deaf ears, literally.

"Diabetes. Maternally inherited, cured but..." he mumbled, looking at the PADD. "Lissan, she's deaf."

"Yes, doctor. This is exactly the mtDNA I need."

In her chart, it listed that the woman had tried implants except her body rejected them. She could read lips, but with all of their faces covered by the masks, she wasn't able to see them.

Leonard raised his voice. "Does anyone here know sign language?" The floor went quiet at his command, but no one spoke up. "Anyone?" Leonard mumbled a few curses, looking around for another PADD, one that wasn't filled with patient's charts. "Can I get something to write with?" Leonard called out.

_"Leonard?"_

Leonard froze. His stomach lurched, and his heart skipped a beat. He waited...

"Len? Is that you?"

Turning toward the voice, Leonard felt the dread rise from his stomach, taking over his body, and small beads of sweat broke out on his skin. Under any other circumstance he would have rejoiced at hearing that voice, but not here. Not now. It was all too convenient, and certainly too dire for him to celebrate.

Two rows and eleven beds away, David McCoy was half-standing beside an empty cot. He was dressed in civilian clothes without protective gear, which only compounded Leonard's fear. The man was not here in a professional capacity.

Still in shock, he took two steps toward his father, his feet moving of their own accord, slowly walking to what he hoped was a hallucination. When the reality of his father's appearance hit him, he took off running, ignoring all shouts from the doctors and guards.

"Dad!" he choked out in a sob. "Dad." Leonard wrapped his father in his arms, pulling him tight like he could protect him from everything around them.

They laughed and cried, too stunned to care about anything other than the presence of each other.

Their questions came in a volley of concern and surprise, and just plain happiness mixed with relief.

"What are you doing here?" Leonard asked, still holding him.

"They kept telling me you were dead," David said. "I never believed them. Not once." Leonard only pulled him tighter, and as his father returned the embrace, he started to cough.

"Dr. McCoy, step away from the patient." It wasn't a request. The guard behind him demanded with all the authority behind it. Leonard heard the charge of a phaser being activated.

He released his father, not because he had been ordered to, but to examine his father. He placed him on the bed as the coughs wracked his body.

"Easy, now, dad. That's it. Breathe," he soothed him. "Water! I need some water." He didn't know if anyone was delivering on his demands, he only had eyes for his father. When the coughing subsided, David took a deep breath and gave Leonard a weak smile.

"How did you get here?" Leonard asked, his voice softer than before.

"I'm not really sure. This Southern Belle approached me back in San Francisco, told me she knew where you were. She made me promise not to tell anyone.” His father coughed into his hand again, and Leonard could hear the rattle in his chest.

“Her accent was a nice touch," David said.

“They knew how to play at your heartstrings,” Leonard said with a shake of his head.

“I didn't even hesitate, son, and not because of her accent. They told us you were dead, but none if us believed them. It had been months since we’d heard any kind of news about you. Months.” He reached up for Leonard’s hand, gripping it tight. “I went with her no questions asked. Next thing I knew was a hypospray to the neck. Woke up here. I didn’t even know I’d been taken off planet."

“Gee, that sounds familiar.” Leonard looked at the people around the room. Someone on staff had to have been a part of his father’s abduction, or at least known about it. "How long have you been here?"

"A day?" he said. "But it was weeks ago I was approached."

"Just when I think...” Leonard couldn’t finish his thoughts. “Those goddamn bastards!" Leonard turned around, looking at each of the patients. They were in varying degrees of the first stage of the disease, but it was apparent they were all infected. Their skin was clammy, sweat-soaked, and most were coughing, and even though it had only been a few days since they had exhibited symptoms, their cheeks were starting to look sunken in from the dehydration they were most likely suffering from.

Turning to his father, he knew the answer with one glance.

"I'm infected."


	18. =/18\=

"You're not supposed to be here," Leonard said under his breath. "You're not supposed to be here. You're in San Francisco."

Leonard glanced around for his father's shoes. He looked under the bed, then at the foot, and proceeded to walk around the bed in its entirety. Everything he had come to accept over the last few days was shadowed with deceit. This wasn't real, none of it could be real, and no matter how many twists and turns they threw at him, he wouldn't consent to any of it. This had to be a holo program, it was the only explanation for the lengths Section 31 would go to make Leonard cooperate. They could torture him, lock him up in a cell for years, hell, they could end his life if that's what they wanted, because at this point, there was nothing to go back to. Harming the ones he loved, the ones he held most dear, well, that was crossing every line Leonard had painstakingly drawn since they had taken him.

Would they willingly sentence an innocent bystander to death just to make him comply?

As Leonard circled the bed, he caught the eye of the woman lying next to his father. She was about twenty years old, and with bright, pink hair, tattoos poking through her T-shirt and her stained fingers, he could tell she was an artist of some sort—a vivacious woman, despite her pallor and ghostly appearance. She was an innocent bystander, too, a stranger to which Leonard had no attachment. As a doctor, Leonard felt the connection to help her, but there was no personal motivation, not like there would be by infecting his father.

A chill came over him. He straightened, glancing around at the other beds, frantically searching the faces for traces of familiarity. Leonard looked for blue and gold in a sea of grays. He’d made enough of a scene around his father’s bed, he was confident there was no one else he knew, and it focused him.

"Dad, put these on,” Leonard said, handing his father the hospital slippers underneath his cot. "I'm getting you out of here."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Dr. McCoy." Dr. Tonkin, who'd been quiet through this entire exchange, was now stanch in her order. "He's infected. He's not going anywhere."

Leonard heard Dr. Tonkin, but he didn't listen. Instead, he tried to lift his father out of the bed.

"Let go of the patient." The guard to his left spoke in a firm voice, and the phaser charged again.

"Leonard, it's okay," David said, resisting. Leonard felt a hand on his arm trying to pull him away. He was stubborn though, shrugging off the hand while he lifted his father's shoulders.

"Len..."

He could feel his composure slipping, then more hands were on him, and it pushed him over the edge. He grabbed hold of the guard’s protective suit and shoved him backwards.

"Touch me again, and we're going to have a problem!" He was frantic and full of wrath to the point of pain.

"Dr. McCoy," Dr. Tonkin’s voice was softer, and in complete contrast to Leonard's, "he's infected. He cannot leave this place. You know this."

"And _you_ know he'll die here!"

Leonard's breaths were coming hard and quick, enough that he wanted to rip the covered mask off his face so he could get more oxygen to his lungs. He let go of the guard, noticing the other two had their phasers drawn and aimed at him.

Leonard turned to Dr. Tonkin pleading with her. "I'll do it," he said, taking a step closer. Tonkin waved off the guards. "I'll do whatever you want," Leonard said. "Tell whomever you need to tell, I'll do it." Looking for the cameras in the room, he stretched his arms out like so many times before in the underground cell. "You sons of bitches! I'll do it!" he yelled so loud his voice carried across the entire room.

"Dr. McCoy, step back," the guard said, when Leonard closed the distance to Dr. Tonkin.

"You tell them. You have to tell them," he said, still begging Dr. Tonkin. "I'll go wherever they want me to go. I'll work on whatever they want me to work on. I just want a cryotube for this man." He pointed to his father who was still prone on the cot, breathing with difficulty.

Leonard's outburst had attracted the attention of everyone in the room. Patients had begun to rise from their beds, curious, but not everyone heard his pleas. Those closest to him had, and understood what Leonard was asking.

Dr. Tonkin stood straight backed with her arms still hanging by her sides. Leonard wanted her to react, time was ticking for his father, and she was being an asshole and not doing anything to help.

"My god, lady! Did you hear what I said? I'll give them Genesis. Just get me a goddamn cryotube!”

Leonard heard shouts of protests as more patients came forward, every one of them asking why one man deserved to be saved over any of them. They infringed on their space, until the guards and Dr. Tonkin were surrounded by a crowd of unsettled infected.

"Dr. McCoy, you need to calm down," Tonkin said, holding her hands up in front of her. "I'm not sure what you think is going on here, but you're turning this into a volatile situation."

"Stay back!" The guard closest to Dr. Tonkin said, and the more he protested about the close proximity of the patients, the more they encroached on the empty space.

Leonard saw the girl with bright, pink hair step forward, hands in the air. He recognized the fight for life in her eyes, he'd seen it in the past many times; a person knowing they were going to die, but wanting to desperately hold on to every breath.

"I _said_ , stay back!" The guard turned his phaser toward the girl.

"I don't want to die," she said, and the crowd's voices rang out like a chorus in agreement.

Leonard couldn't look at her. He couldn't save her. He couldn't develop a cure in time to save all of these people. He could only save one.

"Dad," he said under his breath. They met each other's eyes, both knowing how this would play out. These people were desperate, and the guard’s fingers were twitching, resonating with fear. David nodded, understanding things were about to break down. They couldn't stop it, even though as doctors they should be trying to prevent it.

The girl continued forward, and on her fourth step, the guard pulled the trigger, stunning her, and she dropped to the floor in a heap. The room fell silent for a few seconds, stunned by the violence. Leonard held his breath, and then the crowd erupted in condemnation for the guards. Those closest to the armed men rushed forward, quickly overpowering them, while the others ran for the doors trying to get away from the chaos.

Leonard lunged for his father, lifting him to his feet, putting his arm across his back. "Time to go," Leonard said. He led them away from the crowd, toward the opposite end of the room from the main exit.

"Dr. McCoy! This way!" Leonard heard Lissan's voice over the shouts of the mob. When he looked up, he saw she had a door propped open and was signaling them to follow her.

At least sixty people were stampeding their way through the main doors, knocking down anyone not able to carry themselves on their own two feet. Leonard watched in horror as the infected ran out the doors, most likely carrying panic to the other floors. It was his fault, he knew this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His thoughts were only about his father, and getting him away from this death sentence.

“You up for this, old man?” He hiked his dad up with his arm tight around his ribs. Leonard dragged, half carried, his father to where Lissan was waiting with the propped open door. She held some vials in her hand, and a mask and suit in the other.

“I have what I needed," she said waving the blood filled vials at him. Leonard had no idea how she managed it, but he admired her resourcefulness.

When the door closed behind them, he could feel his father’s need for a rest. His chest was pumping heavily against his own, so he helped him lean against the wall in the stairwell. He still held him up, but he gave the man some space to catch his breath.

“Where do you think this leads?” Leonard asked Lissan.

“I do not know, but we must hurry. More guards will come.”

Leonard didn't want to think about the consequences of his actions, not yet. “We’re going to get you back to the research facility, dad. It’s a ways, but we’ll find some transport. Here, put these on.” He helped his father with the smock and mask.

“Saving worlds, mouthing off Admirals, miraculous wonder drugs, and now starting riots." David patted Leonard on the shoulder, giving him a tired smile. "I’d say I’m surprised, son, but your mother and I knew you were destined for great things.” His father met his eyes, tearing a little then shook his head reaching up to cup Leonard's protected cheek. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

They heard shouts further down the stairwell from another floor. It was a few levels below them, but they needed to get moving.

"We will need a diversion to get past the guards," Lissan said to them.

"Wasn't that what the riot was for?" David asked.

"No, she's right. The lower floors won't react like this one. They're too sick. The further down we go, the less mobile people will be. It won't take long for the guards to neutralize this group."

"How convenient," David said.

"There's hundreds of people camped outside the building. I hate to think what'll happen if this riot escalates." The idea of putting all of those people in jeopardy, just so they could escape weighed heavily on his conscience. He didn't want to be responsible for more casualties, but before he could think of an alternate solution, the sound of a klaxon pierced the air, followed by flashing red lights in the stairwell.

_”Attention please. The signal you have just heard indicates the report of an emergency in this building. Please initiate code red procedures. If your floor tone sounds after this message, begin code red relocation as necessary, and await further instructions.”_

"That will help," Lissan said wiping her hands, and closing up the panel in the wall. "It should create enough disruption for us to escape."

Leonard stood agape with eyes wide, watching Lissan. "What did you do?"

Lissan shrugged. "Doctor, you agreed we needed a diversion. This was a logical solution."

"Logical my ass. They can't evacuate the building. These people are quarantined!"

"Code red procedures do not involve evacuations unless there is a viable threat," Lissan said like she was reciting from a textbook.

"These patients are critical. They shouldn't be moved."

"Yes, Dr. McCoy, these people _are_ dying. Their deaths are inevitable whether they are moved or not. They are already dead. We are not, and thousands of others on this station are not dying either. Do we, or do we not, need to leave this place with this man?" She pointed to his father, who was now covered up.

"I like her," David said, patting Leonard on the shoulder.

"Her logic would give Spock's a run for its money," Leonard said. "Except this one has a devious side to her which makes her more dangerous." He shook his head then introduced them. "Lissan, this is my father. Dr. David McCoy."

Lissan tilted her head, her antennae bending his way.

"A pleasure, doctor."

"Likewise, darlin'," David said, smiling. "Now, son, are we going to fish or cut bait?"

They could hear more shouts as the klaxons on each of the floors rang out.

"I guess that's our cue." Leonard lifted his father up, helping him down the stairs as quickly as he could manage. With the 'code red' procedures in place, the two of them would more than likely pass for doctors helping a patient.

It was slow going with David stopping at each landing to catch his breath. The coughing had gotten worse, and Leonard wished he'd thought of grabbing a hypospray with some suppressant medication. At least Lissan's hack was still working, and the klaxons continued to ring on each of the floors. They'd run into a few orderlies and nurses running up and down the stairs, but so far it seemed no one was looking for them.

When they reached the third floor landing, their luck ran out. They heard the boots running up the stairs; guards—a number of them—making their way toward them, blocking their escape route.

"Lissan," Leonard said, "take my father.” Section 31 wouldn't let anything serious happen to him, at least he was banking on it, but it would be different for his father and Lissan. “Get him out of here. Take him back to the facility. Whatever you do, don't wait for me. You start working on that theory of yours. Tell Dr. Chapel what's happened." Leonard passed off his father to Lissan. "You got him?" She nodded.

“I’m sorry, Dr. McCoy,” Lissan said to him. “I did not know.”

He had a good idea what she was apologizing for, but he didn’t have time to hear it. There was a story there, but she seemed sincere, so he had to trust in that. “Just help him.”

“I will do as you ask,” she promised.

"Len, what're you going to do?" his father asked.

"Don't worry about me. Gonna buy you some time. Go with Lissan, Dad. She'll get you out of here." They both hesitated. "Go! Get outside." Leonard pushed them through the door to the third floor, then braced himself for what was coming up the stairs. There were six of them, running in single file in full combat gear. Four of the guards kept going, passing Leonard without a second glance. Two remained behind with phasers drawn.

"Credentials," one of the guards demanded.

Leonard had his hands in the air, hoping they didn't view him as a threat.

"Dr. Puri," Leonard said without even thinking. "I don't have my credentials with me. I was caught off guard when the code red happened."

"It's mandatory to carry your pass at all times, doctor," the guard said, reaching for Leonard. "Come with us."

Leonard took one deep breath, letting it out slowly to let his mind work out what he was about to do. In that quick moment, he planned it out in slow motion just as Jim had taught him years ago in Leonard’s only combat class. He needed to render the first guard immobile with one blow, or the two would quickly overpower him, or worse stun him and it would all be over. They were both wearing combat helmets with face shields, so he had one chance to get this right. Time stood still for a moment, then the guard reached for him, and with a clarity Leonard hadn’t been expecting, his body reacted without warning.

With a straight hand, he struck at the guard's windpipe, and connected. The guard dropped his phaser as his hands came up to his throat. Bending over, he gasped for air from the damage to his airway. Leonard didn't think he had crushed it, since the man was still breathing while he gasped, but his concern was short-lived when he saw movement to his left. Leonard ducked as the second guard fired. He charged toward the man, tackling him into the stairway railing, knocking the wind out of him. They toppled to the ground with the guard on top of him, and Leonard remembered Jim's words, ' _Whatever you do, Bones, don't let them take you to the ground, especially if they have the leverage.'_

Despite the weight on top of him, Leonard reached for the man's helmet, wrenching it off his head and smashing it in his face. Leonard heard the bones in the man's nose break, and then the blood began to gush. The guard screamed, and his hands went straight from Leonard's throat to his crushed nose. Leonard's legs swung out and kicked over, finally getting free of the man's weight. As he stood, he didn't hesitate before raising his foot and kicking the guard in the ribs hard enough to crack them, and then repeated a kick to his head, knocking him unconscious.

 _'Make sure their down, Bones, and not getting back up.'_ He could still hear Jim's voice, instructing him as he tried to catch his breath. There was more commotion on the stairs above and below him, shouts and more boots on concrete.

"Don't move." Leonard heard the rasped voice from behind him. The first guard had recovered, and as Leonard admitted defeat, raising his hands, he looked past the tremors traveling up his arms, and focused on a spot on the wall. He just hoped he'd given Lissan enough time to get his father out.

"Turn around slowly," the guard said. Leonard sighed with resignation, but as he started turning, the phaser fired, and he braced for impact except nothing hit him. He heard a grunt, and the sound of a body falling.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs was a kid no more than ten with a phaser in his hand. His face was dirty, and his clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in a few days, but Leonard recognized the intelligence in the kid's eyes.

"You the doctor?" the kid said, his dark hair falling across his brow.

"Did you shoot that man?" Leonard asked with surprise.

"Yeah, so?"

"So? Where'd you get that phaser? How old are you, kid?"

"Old enough to save you."

Leonard snorted, then laughed as he shook his head. "Guess you are." Leonard bent down, grabbing the other guard's phaser, and then checked the man's pulse. He was breathing at least.

"You the doctor?" the kid asked again.

"I am _a_ doctor, yes," Leonard said, not giving the kid much attention.

"You Harry's doctor?"

Leonard's hand stilled as he realized what the kid was asking. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"Harry always knows."

There were more shouts on the stairwell above them. "Look, kid, I thank you for the assistance, but I have to get out of here." Leonard reached for the door of the third floor, the same way his father and Lissan had gone.

"Not that way," the kid said, gesturing toward him. "You gotta come with me. This way."

"Oh, yeah? And why should I listen to you? What are you ten?"

"Twelve!"

"Oh, much better," Leonard said. "Some other time, kid. I'm kind of in a rush."

"They'll catch you that way."

"What do you know of it?"

"They blocked the exits." The kid raised his chin, looking Leonard in the eye.

"I have people in there," Leonard said, "and I need to make sure they got out." Leonard heard more footsteps on concrete.

"Only one way out," the kid said, already turning to head down the stairs. Leonard swore under his breath, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the kid.

"You set that phaser to stun, you hear me?" Leonard said, hardly believing he was putting his faith in a ten-year-old prodigy of Harry Mudd's.

 


	19. =/19\=

"What's your name, kid?" Leonard asked. They avoided the guards and the medical staff, sticking to the back doors and corridors that led to the underbelly of the hospital, but now they were stuck outside a secured door requiring a thumbprint entry to open it.

"None of your business," the kid smarted back. He dug into his back pocket, pulling out some kind of tool Leonard couldn't make out. He began taking apart the console like it wasn't the first time he had done it.

"None of my business," Leonard mumbled. "Great. I get all the ones with attitude problems. Karma just can't leave well enough alone."

The kid had the console open, and was cutting and twisting wires together, while Leonard ditched his containment suit covered in the guard's blood, but left the mask on.

"You know what you're doing, kid?"

He turned to Leonard with a scowl on his face. "I'm not a kid."

"Well, since you won't give me your name, what the hell do you expect me to call you?"

The kid turned back to the keypad, twisted a few more wires, then replaced the cover. "Mungus."

"Mungus?" Leonard scoffed. "'Cause that's much better than 'kid.' What kind of name is that?"

"What kind of name is 'Bones?'"

Leonard's breath caught, a hitch when he registered the name the kid had said. It had been far too long since her heard it. Grabbing the kid by the shoulders, he shook him, gripping tight. "Where did you hear that? How do you know that name? "

The kid struggled to get out of Leonard's hold. "Let go, or you'll be sorry. "

"I doubt that very much." Leonard held firm, ignoring the pain in his ribs from the fall with the guard. "Tell me who sent you."

"I was told to fetch the doctor, so that's what I'm doing. It's all I know."

"Now you listen, you little street rat, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about."

"I don't got to tell you nothing."

" _Have_ , you ingrate. You don't _have_ to tell me _anything_. But I've got a hypospray in my pocket that'll pump you full of the nastiest case of Andorian shingles this side of the galaxy." The kid tried to gauge Leonard's bluff, but with the mask still partially covering his face, he had the advantage. "You want your little prick to fall off?"

His face paled at Leonard's words, then he snapped his mouth shut. He shook his head no, then glanced to Leonard's hands still gripping tight to his shoulders.

"Well, all right then. I think we can get along, don't you?"

The kid nodded, then his shock turned into a sly smile. "Can I have the spray after I take you where I'm s'pposed to?"

"Can you have the—? Hell, no!" Leonard laughed. "You've got guts, Mungus, I'll give you that." Leonard let go of his shoulders, taking a step back. "Now tell me what this is about."

"Don't know." Leonard folded his arms, waiting for a real answer. "Mr. Harry said to fetch you. That's all I know."

"Where's the man and the Andorian I was with earlier? Did they make it out?"

Mungus shrugged again. "Don't know. Was told only you."

Leonard cursed under his breath. "I need to go back."

"This is the only way. They're looking for you. Always have their eyes on you, Harry said."

"Who does?"

"The ones Mr. Harry doesn't like."

"Why'd he tell you to fetch me?"

"He's got a message for you, and wants to know when he's getting his ship." The kid looked proud as he passed on the message, and Leonard saw the makings of a mini Harry Mudd blossom before his eyes.

Leonard doubted this was some elaborate plot put on by Harry, and if it was, he was ensnared with no way out, but if it wasn't, it meant Harry had done it. The son-of-a-bitch had gotten a message through to Jim. Leonard felt ready to take on the whole militia out front. Nothing would stop him from getting that message.

"What are we waiting for, then?" Leonard asked and smiled, ruffling the kid's hair. "Take me to Mr. Harry."

 

=/\=

 

Mungus had a way with keypads that reminded him an awful lot of Jim. He knew exactly where the cameras were, and how to avoid them. Leonard would wager Jim would recruit this riffraff into his club of geniuses if given the chance. He was a smart-mouthed little thing, but he sure was resourceful.

They managed to slip away from the quarantined facility undetected, sticking to the shadows of buildings and eventually making it to Harry's. They snuck in the side door of the bar, and Leonard finally relaxed his shoulders for the first time in hours.

The place was empty, even though it shouldn't have been at this time in the day. There was the stale stench of booze, and the sweet scent of Orion tobacco lingering in the emptiness, and the deep contrast from the sterility of the hospital was comforting.

"Where is everyone?" Leonard asked Mungus once his eyes adjusted from the light outside. He didn't expect Mungus to answer, the kid wasn't big on conversation or revealing even the simplest things, like names. Leonard was getting used to his non-committal answers and the shrugs that went with them.

"Wait here," Mungus said, then slipped behind the bar, heading through the swing door to the back. Leonard eyed the bottles lined up on the shelves, and without hesitation, he sought out a glass to pour himself a few fingers worth of the top shelf stuff. It was the kind of day for good bourbon.

"Should I add that to your bill?" Harry Mudd was grinning when he came through the door, but he didn't look as spritely as the last time they'd met. "One ship, thirty-five cases of ale, and a double shot of bourbon."

"After today, you better make it two or three double shots," Leonard said, smiling to see the familiar face.

Harry's usual complexion was filled with color, if not from the drink, it was the flush of living a good life. As he sat across from Leonard, Harry seemed haggard. What little of the hair left on the top of his head was disheveled and unwashed. He didn't seem to be displaying any symptoms from the virus, but his pallor took on a gray tone, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"You're not sick, are you, Harry?"

"Fit as a fiddle," he said, smiling but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You run into trouble?" Leonard asked with genuine concern. He couldn't bear to see Harry hurt, even if he was a scoundrel.

"Not as much as you, apparently." He nodded to the bottle in Leonard's hand, and Leonard complied, filling a new glass. Harry pulled a device out of his pocket, pushed a few buttons and then the full screen behind the bar came alive. It was a news broadcast, showing the riots in the streets near the hospital. Hundreds of people, young and old, rebelled against the militia who'd been present outside of the hospital. The riot had been contained shortly after it started, but not without injury.

"Your doing?" Harry asked, eyeing him up.

Leonard cursed under his breath before swallowing the contents in his glass.

"Must've been pretty important to cause all that," Harry said, taking the bottle from Leonard.

He was a doctor, not a rebel leader. He hadn't been rational since the moment he laid eyes on his father, and now all of that destruction and upheaval was because of him. He hoped that message Harry had was going to be worth it, or this would all be for nothing, and the station was doomed.

"It's one helluva story."

"For what I went through for you, Doc," Harry said, "I've no doubt about that. And someday, when we make it off this hellhole, we'll share our tales of woe." He raised his glass, filling Leonard's in the process, and waited for him to clink it with his own.

"Do you know about the Andorian I was with?"

"At the research station." Harry gave Leonard a knowing look that told him he might be more aware of his situation than he was letting on. "Along with the man."

Leonard sighed in relief. "The kid said you had a message for me." He tried to keep an expectant tone out of his voice, but when Harry smiled at him, he knew he had failed.

"He's a good lad, Mungus," Harry said, drawing this out as a way of torturing Leonard.

"Mungus?" Leonard asked and laughed. "You give him that name?"

"No, his father did, evil bastard, but the kid won't answer to anything else."

"He part of your operation?"

"Nah, not so much. Street kid, mostly, but I help him and his mother from time to time. He seems fit to repay me with favors. He can slip into places you and I can't. He was the best choice to get you out of that mess."

"How did you know?"

"It's one helluva story," Harry echoed Leonard's words, then smiled. He pressed another button on his remote, and then the screen filled with multiple video feeds from all parts of the station, including the hospital.

"You really are a scoundrel."

"I prefer the term rogue," he said, but Leonard sensed the man's sorrow. He wasn't his jovially backbiting self. As much as he wanted to dig in the man's pocket for whatever message he had, Leonard took another drink, willing himself to be patient.

"You better be worth it, McCoy," Harry said, holding his glass aloft.

"I sure as hell hope I am, too." It was said under his breath, but Harry caught the meaning all the same. They sat at the bar enjoying a few sips of their drinks until Harry broke the quietude.

"Mungus' mother caught the sickness. She passed this morning. The kid doesn't know yet."

"I'm real sorry, Harry," Leonard said and meant it. "This never should've happened. Starfleet should've done a better job of aiding this place, but somehow I'm thinking they don't know what's happening here. Something bigger is at play. Starfleet wouldn't leave this station to fend for itself. It makes no sense."

"I think you may be right on that one. There was a time when I would have done everything to avoid your Starfleet and its regulations, but what I wouldn't give to see those ridiculous, colored uniforms."

"Me too, Harry."

"Someone sure is gunning for your ' _bones,'_ McCoy."

It was irrational the amount of blood that rushed to various places when he heard that word. Being close to Jim or even the _Enterprise_ after all these months gave him the strength and courage to continue this fight.

Harry dug inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a green data card. Setting it on the bar, he slid it over to Leonard. "I believe this is what you're looking for?"

"Did you look at it?" Leonard assumed he had, didn't expect any less from a man like Harry.

"Any other time," Harry said, twirling his glass in his fingers, "I would've. But not this time." He drained the rest of his glass. Rising, he put a hand on Leonard's shoulder.

Leonard's eyes teared at the comforting touch of Harry's hand. Whatever the man had been through, Leonard owed him each of the promises he had made and more.

"You think you can cure it?"

"I do," Leonard said. "And with the help of the _Enterprise_ , we can save these people."

Harry squeezed his shoulder, digging into the muscle, but Leonard didn't flinch. He understood pain all too well.

"If he doesn't come..."

"He will."

"They'll make it look like an accident. They'll blow the scrubbers on this entire station. No one will know the truth."

"He'll come, Harry." Leonard needed to hear it as much as Harry did, and if Jim didn't come, Leonard still planned to make things right.

Harry gave Leonard one last pat. "Mungus will see you back safely." And with that, Harry disappeared behind the swinging door.

 

=/\=

 

The darkened alleys Mungus led him down were a blur, as were the thoughts of his father, and the sorrow he felt for the kid who just lost his mother. Leonard could only concentrate on the data card burning a hole in his back pocket. It wouldn't be long before Section 31 or the militia caught up to him. He'd taken a patient out of quarantine, and that patient happened to be the one weapon Section 31 wanted to use against him. The data card, and whatever was on it wouldn't change what he had to do, but if he could just have something—anything—from Jim, it would give him the courage to surrender for the sake of his father.

When they arrived at the facility, Mungus disappeared before Leonard had the chance to thank him or offer him a warm meal. The security gate opened and Christine was there, relief flooding her face when she laid eyes on him.

"Oh, thank god," she said, wanting to pull him into her arms but stopped when he raised his hands. He'd been careful while he'd been amongst the infected, but there was no need to be reckless.

"I'm all right," he said, soothing her nerves. "I'm all right, Christine."

"Where have you been?" She looked like she was about to slap him again. Instinctively, he took a step back, raising an eyebrow in question. "I've been worried sick." She tilted her head to look at his chin, and the bruises on his neck from his earlier fight. "Lissan said you ran charging into some guards."

"I'd hardly call it running, and it was only two." Leonard stepped away from her scrutiny. "Is my..." He hesitated, wondering just how much he should confess.

"He is," she said finishing for him. "I've made him rest, but I see where you get your bullheadedness from. I don't know who's worse. You or him."

"Him, definitely," Leonard said chuckling.

They headed down the corridor, Christine leading him toward the isolation area she'd set up for his father. He asked if she knew of any cryotubes or stasis pods on the station, but she sadly told him no.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, but there was no accusation in it.

"I wasn't," he said. "I didn't know what to do, and I couldn't leave him there." He'd broken his own protocols by bringing an infected patient into the facility. He had asked his people to trust him, and yet, he'd acted irrational, only thinking with his heart.

Chapel stopped outside the room where his father rested. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Harry's," Leonard answered without even thinking. "He had a message from Jim."

"Kirk?" Her eyes opened wide. "What did it say?"

"I don't know. Haven't heard it, yet."

"Do you think he's..." she paused for a moment. "Do you think he'll come?"

"I'd like to tell you yes, but I don't know." He left her contemplating his words, and walked through the isolation doors, only stopping to suit up in some protective gear.

As he entered the tented area, Leonard's father turned his head toward him, his eyes lighting up at seeing his son. It had been a couple of hours, but it looked like his symptoms had progressed. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to move his father, but at the time, Leonard couldn't think of anything but keeping him close.

"Dad," Leonard said, reaching for his hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he scoffed. "That Dr. Chapel of yours is quite the task master. She's a tough cookie."

"Don't I know it. She's got a mean right hook, too."

"You probably deserved it."

"I did." Leonard pulled up a chair beside the bed, never letting go of his father's hand.

"Son—"

"I'm so sorry, Dad," Leonard said, his voice breaking as he rested his covered forehead on their clasped hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Len," his father placed his free hand on top of Leonard's head, "this is not your fault."

"I'm going to get you the help you need. I'm going to stop this."

"Dammit, Leonard. Don't you give in to them." The coughing began, slowly at first, with a rattle in his chest like his lungs were filling up with fluid. It didn't last long, not like it had back at the hospital.

"We'll put you in stasis and bring you out when I have the cure. I can stop all of this."

"Cryotubes are old technology, Leonard. We both know that. Where you going to get one?"

"I can get my hands on one."

"And how do you propose to do that, huh? At what cost to everyone else?"

"Would you stop being such a damn pessimist! I'm trying to save your life, dammit!"

"I have no doubt you can, but this Genesis thing is bad news. Your Jim told me everything. He told me what they plan on doing with your formula," his father said.

"He's not my Jim."

"Yes, he is. He's your Jim. What the hell do you think we've all been going these past few months?"

"Planning weddings apparently," Leonard mumbled, but his father didn't hear him over the coughing fit that took hold again. It was persistent enough that Leonard dosed him with a cocktail his staff had developed to alleviate the symptoms of the disease. It didn't stop the blood his father had coughed up into his hands, though.

"Well, that's not good," David said.

"What can I do, Dad?"

"You can take me out of this goddamn equation, is what you can do."

"Dad—"

"No, Leonard! I won't be used as a pawn. You hear me?"

"You're dying."

"We all have to die sometime, right? Isn't that what got you in this mess in the first place?"

Leonard didn't want to laugh, but he found himself chuckling along with his father. "I suppose it was."

"A life for a life."

"No," Leonard choked. "It doesn't have to be."

"It does, Son."

"I just need some time. I can save you."

"I won't have you sacrificing your soul for me. You're flesh of _my_ flesh. I'm the one who gets to make that decision. Not you. I won't be used like this so they can destroy your life, and get everything they want by way of force. They mean to change the universe we live in. _They_ did this, not you, Len."

"You stubborn, old fool! I can't stand by and watch you die, not like this!"

"Then take me out of the equation, Son." David whispered this time, reaching for Leonard's hand again.

"What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying," David said, "you just won't accept it."

"Your damn right I won't!"

"I'm dying and there's no cure. From what I've seen of Ms. Christine's data, this is going to be a brutal death. I won't have you go through that. Don't give the bastards what they want, dammit! You do this on your own terms, not with a noose hanging over my neck. You get a message to your Jim, and he'll come, and when he does, you'll let the Federation know exactly what's happening here, 'cause no one knows, Len. Not Earth, not the Federation, no one. This virus doesn't exist off this station. Those Section Whatever assholes are pissing down the Federation's back and telling them it's raining."

Ignoring his father's well-played idiom, Leonard pulled the green data card out of his pocket, holding it up for his father to see. "This is from Jim," Leonard said, tugging at his mask, and smiling at his father. "I got a message out a few weeks ago, and he responded." Leonard shook his head at his father's expectant eyes. "Haven't listened to it yet."

"What're you waiting for?" David said, chuckling. "Never did have the good sense god gave a goose."

"Yeah? Well, you could start an argument in an empty house!"

"Go," David said softly. "Go and make this right, and then come back and tell me where the hell you've been all these months." David's eyes filled with tears, shining with happiness, but there was underlying sadness, too.

His father had calculated the days, just as Leonard had since he'd left Harry's. David was exhibiting symptoms, which meant he had up to ten days before he would succumb to a horrific death. Jim would need to steal a ship, warp his way to Axius V, and Leonard doubted Jim would have the technology onboard to put his father in stasis.

It was more than a long shot, and it was entirely dependent on Jim following through on a promise he made long ago before brides and weddings, and new-found love.

 


	20. =/20\=

With his stomach tied in knots, and hands trembling, Leonard placed the data card on his desk. He stared at it for a minute or two, pushing away the dread crawling up his spine. He'd waited months for this moment, and now that it was here, he wasn't sure he wanted it. There was that seed of doubt nestled inside him, reminding him he was alone and always would be, that Jim had moved on, and maybe, just maybe, he never meant as much to Jim as Jim did to him.

The thought was stupid and fleeting, and more importantly pointless. This wasn't about him. Jim would come regardless of his feelings toward Leonard.

His hands were shaking, so it took a few tries to line up the card to the PADD. After the fourth try, and some deep guttural curses, he managed to slot it in. Sitting on the edge of his chair, he took a deep breath before accessing the only file on the card.

Leonard hoped for a message from Jim, but it could be anything, maybe even an intercepted message from Section 31. The only thing he truly wanted was to hear Jim's voice, and if the odds were for once in his favor, he'd see his face.

Thirty seconds passed since he accessed the file, and the screen was still blank. There was an ache in his chest, burning, making it impossible to breathe. The heaviness crushed all hope, reminding him just how cruel the universe was—one last cosmic joke. Section 31 must have intercepted the message, wiped it clean without Harry knowing. Every time he thought he was getting ahead, he was thrown against another barrier. The bastards would always be one step ahead of him. His anguish was short-lived, quickly replaced by a deep-seated anger fueled by frustration. His fingers squeezed the PADD until it groaned under the pressure, ready to snap in two.

As he raised his arm to hurl the PADD across the room, he heard a deep sigh coming from the speaker. Then he heard the one thing he never thought he'd hear again.

"Bones..."

Jim's voice was soft, but unmistakable. Leonard's hand was still raised midair, waiting to see if it was real or his imagination. He waited, his stomach ready to hurl the bourbon he drank earlier at Harry's bar.

A throat cleared, and then a voice, the sweetest sound since that black bag was placed over his head. Too long had it been, and this time he would never forget the richness of that voice. It was like Georgia summers, thick with the smell of warm peach pie, and the buzz of the cicadas in the afternoon sun where there wasn't a cloud in the rich, blue sky. It was the sound of Leonard's home.

"Bones." Jim's voice was solid and sure this time, and it made Leonard bring the PADD down to eye level. His eyes stung as they landed on the screen—Jim was alive and breathing, and it was all Leonard needed to let go of his unrelenting anger. He knew that face. And Jim was as captivating as Leonard remembered, even with his hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes with deep, dark circles underneath.

Leonard fumbled with the PADD, pausing the recording to really look at that face.

This wasn't the Jim pictured in the wedding invitation Christine had showed him. This Jim was much thinner, and the youthful appearance he wore so well had faded. Deep lines had formed around his eyes, and the set of his mouth proved he'd unnecessarily aged this past year. Leonard's disappearance had taken its toll on Jim's health. His fingers caressed the screen, tracing the new lines his absence had etched there. He wished he could tell Jim he was okay, that he would always be okay knowing Jim was somewhere out there in the universe, alive.

"Dammit, Jim," he sighed, "what have you done to yourself?"

Leonard started the recording again.

"Bones." Each time Jim said his name he drew a little bit of strength from it.

"I don't even know where to start," Jim said, shaking his head. He paused for a few breaths, then he cracked a smile that filled up the screen, and warmed Leonard's soul.

"Harry Mudd, Bones! Really?" Jim laughed, and it brought him true joy like nothing ever had. Jim's laugh, the genuine one that made rare appearances, was infectious. He put on a front for so many people, but never for Leonard, and that laugh was the one reserved for when the two of them were alone.

Leonard resisted the urge to start the message from the beginning just to hear that laugh again. Instead, he strained his ears to hear every breath as Jim's recording continued.

"If it wasn't so absurd, I would've thought this was some ploy by that pirate to get back at me for the Romulan ale. But he gave me your message, Bones, and I knew it was you. I got it loud and clear." Jim looked down, hiding his face from the screen. It was almost a full minute before he spoke again.

"There were so many lies," Jim whispered. "But I never believed them. I knew you were out there. So did your dad. We've been searching and scheming, anything to get word of where they had taken you. I didn't believe them, not even when they told us you were dead only weeks ago. Our story wasn't over." Jim finally looked back at the camera and what Leonard saw broke his heart all over again.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I've let you down so many times. You're the only person who has never given up on me, never turned your back on me, and this is how I repay you. Your dad..." Jim's breath hitched, and he briefly looked away from the camera. "I made promises to you I didn't keep." Jim's voice cracked, his hand came up to his eyes, shielding his face, and Leonard's resolve crumbled with Jim's.

"You found _me_ , Bones. I couldn't even do the one thing I said I would." His voice hiccupped. "I'll do everything in my power to make it up to you. Somehow I will. Believe me. I'm coming and nothing..." Jim lowered his hand, wiping his face as he lifted his head back up. His jaw was set, and the tears were gone. "Nothing and no one will stop me. I'm coming, Bones."

A shiver ran down Leonard's spine. His palms were sweating as Jim's words went straight through him leaving a wave of heat in their wake.

"By the time you get this, the _Enterprise_ will be on its way. Not even the entire Klingon armada could stop us.

"Kirk out."

Leonard replayed the message, paying careful attention to Jim's expressions and the slump of his shoulders curving ever so slightly. Jim Kirk didn't know defeat, and he never dwelled on sorrow, at least not the kind that crippled him enough to show weakness. It was uncharacteristic of his friend, his captain, and Leonard wondered if he had changed as much as Jim had.

As Leonard scrutinized over every little detail of the message, he understood that whatever he had gone through, Jim had battled his own demons these past months. It wasn't until the last few seconds of the message that Leonard recognized the man he revered and loved. Jim's shoulders squared, his back straightened, and with his chin held high he stared into the camera with a clarity that represented a relentless belief in winning scenarios. It was in those last few seconds that Leonard felt like the two of them together could conquer anything standing in their way. That was the man he smuggled aboard the _Enterprise_ , the man he ripped away from death's grip, and the reason why Leonard risked everything to save him.

Leonard watched the transmission four more times before he finally tore himself away from the screen. He wanted to lock himself in his office, but arrangements for his father were the priority. He placed the data card in his pocket, drawing strength from its presence for what he was about to do.

There was a knock on the door, and he wished he could ignore it but he didn’t have the luxury to do so. Christine entered, looking tired, but her eyes lit up when he smiled at her.

"From the look on your face it's good news, I suppose?"

"He's coming, Christine." He hesitated, waiting for her to react before he said anything further.

"Oh!" She clasped her hands in front of her mouth, smiling as the pieces fell into place. "How is he coming? When?"

"Could be days, weeks...I don't know."

"I see," she said, understanding the time pressing on his father, and what Leonard's intentions were. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you to keep the team working until he gets here," Leonard said. "And I need you to keep my father safe."

"We can keep him comfortable. It's not too late." She moved toward him, but he stopped her before she got too close.

"You and I both know it is, Christine. He has about ten days. His symptoms have progressed too far." Leonard held her at arm's length, hoping the distance would help. "It's not enough time to find a cure. I need to put my father in stasis, and Section 31 can do that. It'll be one of my conditions."

"Doesn't the _Enterprise_ have that capability?"

"Not anymore. The cryotubes were taken off the ship with Khan and his people. I can't count on that." He rubbed a hand over his face. "So close. So goddamn close!" Leonard wanted to punch something, scream until his voice stopped working. Bracing his hands on the desk, he let his head fall forward. "They've won. All this suffering, all these people, for nothing."

"You're giving them exactly what they want."

"What choice do I have? I'm not going to let my father die, not when he doesn't have to. Besides, it's not just about him anymore. If I don't do this, they'll sacrifice the station. Everyone will die, and no one will ever know. I've been too goddamn selfish."

She placed her hand gingerly on his shoulder. "You've been anything but that."

He pulled away from her touch. "I need you to coordinate with Jim when he gets here. Help these people."

"Leonard," she sighed, "I know what he means to you, but I'm not going to jeopardize everything we've worked toward. I can't risk this facility by betting on a long shot."

"Then do it for your friend, Carol." He tried not to flinch when he said her name, but it still hurt no matter what that message from Jim represented. "You trust her, don't you? And she's going to marry the man."

Christine snorted, chuckling to herself. "I think she drank the Jim Kirk Kool-Aid, just like every other cadet did. He really should come with his own warning label, you know."

"Just promise me, Christine," he snapped. "You'll put aside whatever your personal feelings are toward Jim. Work with him and the _Enterprise_. Help the people on this station. Let the Federation know what's happened here. Don't let those bastards cover this one up. Don't let them get away with it."

"You're making it sound like I'll never see you again." She tried to turn him around to face her, but his grip remained firm on the desk.

"Promise me."

She didn't answer right away, but she squeezed his shoulder to the point of pain. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out as she eased off on her grip. "I promise, Leonard."

"He's a good man. The best I've ever known. He'll make this right, and he won't give up until he does. I know Jim well enough to make that promise to you." This time he did turn to meet her eyes, which were on the verge of spilling tears. Her hand cupped his cheek, while she smoothed her thumb over his jaw line.

"And what am I supposed to tell him?"

"He'll understand why I had to do this."

"That's a load of bullshit," she said, "and we both know it. I know the smug bastard, too. He'll be anything but understanding."

He leaned into her hand. "Well, he doesn't have a goddamn choice."

"And your father?"

"I'll get the cryotube. Keep him safe until I can deliver the cure."

They met each other's eyes once more, and he saw her acceptance there, enough he felt the need to pull her into his arms. "I'll be okay, Christine. I should have done this a long time ago. All these people could have been saved."

"Don't, Leonard McCoy. Don't you dare go down that road and take on those burdens."

He kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't a promise, or anything that would be mistaken for one. It was a goodbye filled with gratitude and heartfelt affection. He would remember this strong, capable and tender woman, and she would be his one regret after all this was done. In their short time together, her friendship nestled its way deep inside of him, and he wished for a future where they could cultivate what had started to grow.  

"Stay close to Jim, Christine. He's the best hope you have. Trust him." And with that, he strode purposefully out of his office toward the laboratory where Lissan was working, leaving Christine behind with her tears.

 

=/\=

 

“Lissan,” Leonard said once the door to the lab had shut, “I think you owe me that talk.” He didn’t think it was possible for an Andorian’s skin to pale, but Lissan seemed a bit peaked.

Despite her pallor, she took a deep breath and faced him with resolve. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“About your father.” Her voice was sincere. “I was approached a week or two after you came here.”

“ _Who_ approached you?”

“My previous commanding officer. I served on the USS _Defiant_ before I was transferred to Earth, and then to this station.”

“Her name.”

“Commander Liu, although she is now an admiral.”

Leonard’s knees went weak, forcing him to lean against the lab bench. His suspicions of the three admirals from the hearing were confirmed. Section 31 had orchestrated everything and was still plucking the strings. His stomach turned at the thought of all the deaths, and how many more were to come. “Your orders?”

“To report your research and findings, and any suspicious activity you may be engaging in.” She rested her hand on his. “You were an unknown entity, Dr. McCoy, one who was not well mentally, and with access to a deadly virus. I did not question the request.”

Leonard patted her hand, taking a deep breath. “I know, Lissan.” He truly believed she was merely a pawn in this. She was too honest and practical to be an agent of Section 31. “When was your last transmission?”

“Days ago. I reported our intentions to visit the quarantine facility.”

"Son of a..." Leonard mumbled under his breath.

"My actions are responsible for your grief," Lissan said, taking a step back and bowing her head. "I cannot undo what I have done, but I will find a way to make it right."

His father said he'd been taken weeks ago. The bastards had him waiting in the wings, waiting for this opportunity to motivate Leonard. The lengths they had gone to bring Leonard to this station didn't make any sense. They had him locked in a cell. They could have tortured the information out of him. Why bring him here, and why involve all of these people? There was a bigger picture he wasn't seeing, and none of it had to do with Lissan, and until the bastards showed their faces, he'd never get the answers he wanted.

"Is there anything else you can tell me, Lissan? Was it only Liu you had contact with?"

She nodded. "And only the days I was scheduled on the roster. I gave a command code and waited for her transmission."

"You know how you can make this right?" Leonard folded his arms. "You work on that cure."

She smiled at him, secure in the knowledge he didn't blame her. "I have established a pattern with the virus and the mutated mitochondrial." She pointed to the screens.

"Already?" He bent to look closer, examining the data and the active virus on the slide. "It's not replicating."

"Precisely," she beamed. "The virus feeds off of healthy cell replication, but mtDNA molecules are not linked to cell cycles."

"They might be replicated in cell division..."

"Or sometimes not," she finished for him.

Leonard stood straight, realizing the enormity of her findings. "Are you saying the virus isn't attacking the mutated cells?"

"Yes, Doctor, I am."

"So, we need to find a way to combat cell replication in the virus using the mutated mtDNA." It was hard to discern what this meant exactly, but it was a starting point—a way to combat the disease and fight back—which was more than they had a few hours ago.

"I could kiss you, Lissan," Leonard said, grinning from ear to ear.

"I prefer you did not, Dr. McCoy," she said, but she returned his smile. "My tendencies are not to your species, or gender."

"Good to know," Leonard said, laughing. It was a breakthrough, the only real one they'd had. The problem was that an antiviral was still a long way off. There was no way they would have anything to test in ten days, let alone a cure. As much as this was good news, it didn't change what Leonard had to do.

"Good work, Lissan. You keep working on this. Report to Dr. Chapel and Dr. M'Benga—"

The door to the laboratory slid open and the room filled with a detail of eight, heavily armed men. They surrounded Leonard, phasers drawn and aimed at his chest.

"This facility is on lockdown," Leonard said with a calm voice, raising his hands in the air. "There are safety protocols in place. You're risking the lives of everyone in this facility by being here." Leonard stepped in front of Lissan, shielding her as much as possible. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave this area. There are live samples of the virus in here, and you have no right to be here."

None of the men acknowledged him, or moved an inch.

"Dr. McCoy!" M'Benga rushed through the door, and two of the men trained their weapons on him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's okay, Geoff, I think I know what they want," Leonard said, moving away from Lissan. "Or I should say 'who.'"

The door slid open again, and in walked the pinched-faced bat who'd haunted his dreams from time to time.

Admiral Liu's expression was filled with malice. She nodded to the point man, and he fixed his aim on Lissan and fired. Leonard leapt in front of the blast, but it happened too fast. M'Benga was next, and as he went down Leonard was grabbed by his arms and hauled toward Liu.

"Are they alive?" he yelled, struggling against his captors, thrashing with everything he had. Leonard took a solid hit to the gut, and the air rushed out of his lungs.

"Bring him," Liu said, and then Leonard knew blackness once again.

 


	21. =/21\=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning* Scenes of violence & torture.

Leonard was tired of people manhandling him places while he was unconscious. He wasn't sure what they dosed him with, but the side effects were a son-of-a-bitch. He squeezed his temples hoping to relieve the pounding in his head, and took comfort in the fact he wasn't tied down to anything. Slowly he opened his eyes to bright lights, and a room that looked a lot like a transporter room. With his head lolling, he tried to stand on unsteady legs.

"You just couldn't comply with the rules, could you, McCoy?" he heard from somewhere behind him.

Leonard had a sinking feeling he was no longer on Axius V. He didn't need to turn around to recognize the delusional, power-hungry voice of Admiral Liu. She stepped in front of him looking the same as he remembered, wearing the pinched expression that matched her tight, slicked-back, red hair.

"What goddamn rules?" Leonard managed to say, trying to keep his feet underneath him. "I've had no contact with you assholes for months! Maybe someone should've explained these so-called, goddamn rules in the first place. How was I supposed to know your grandmaster, evil plans? I'm a doctor dammit, not a mind reader."

"I wanted to shove you out of an airlock, but not everyone agreed with me. Shame, really," she said, folding her arms and glaring down her long, pointed nose. "You and that captain of yours have been nothing but a pain in Starfleet's ass since you were recruited. The entire senior command of that ship should've been taught a lesson in humility. You need to earn those stripes, put your time in. You have to play by the rules, but you think you're above the rules. People like Pike and Barnett celebrated your brazenness and arrogance, but not anymore. Your time is up, McCoy, you'll play by our rules now."

Leonard started to laugh. "Well, it's about damn time. You could've given me this speech, oh..." Leonard looked up to the ceiling, "...about six months ago. Probably would've had more of an impact than it does now." He tried to shrug, but his arms felt weighted from the drug still in his system. "Let's get on with this. Give me a cryotube and I'll give you whatever you want."

"We're past all that now." She laughed. "It took us awhile to find you, you have some powerful people protecting you," she circled around him, relishing in the control she had over him, "but it was easy once you sent that transmission to your precious captain."

"Protecting me? Is that what you call the last few months of hell?" Nothing made sense anymore. How had he led Section 31 to him when they were the ones responsible for his captivity? If Liu never had him in the cell, then who the hell did, and how did he end up here?

"Just tell me if Lissan and Dr. M'Benga are alive."

She narrowed her eyes, weighing her decision to disclose anything. "For now," she admitted. "It's up to you if they stay that way."

"And my father?" he asked. "I just want a cryotube for my father. That's all I'm asking, and I'll give you everything."

"Time is up," she snapped, signaling the guards in black shirts. They hauled him off the transporter pad, dragging him toward the door. There was no use resisting, they had a firm grip on his arms, and they were stronger than him. They would leave bruises the way they were handling him, but Leonard didn't think they'd be the only ones he'd endure today.

He had been transported onto a ship, and wondered if he really would be shoved out of an airlock never to be seen again. The corridor looked much like the _Enterprise_ , but so very different in many fundamental ways. This ship was made for efficiency. It was easy to tell by the sleek, empty corridors. The _Enterprise_ was a ship with almost a thousand crewmembers who made it operable. There were always crewmen in the hallway at all hours of each shift. It was impossible not to run into someone on your way anywhere. They were either in space dock, or this ship was capable of running with a skeleton crew.

Section 31 must have a fleet of weaponized ships at its disposal. This ship didn't feel as big as the _Vengeance_ , that ship dwarfed the _Enterprise_ , but the black and blue lighting on the consoles reminded him an awful lot of Marcus' ship. The dark in contrast to the light of the _Enterprise_ was fitting in all regards.

The room he was hauled into was empty apart from a single, metal chair in the center on an elevated platform. It was bolted to the floor, slightly reclined with a number of restraints attached to it. His escorts slammed him into the chair, strapping him down without a word or even a grunt from either of them. With his arms and legs outstretched, and no way to move, Leonard's panic surfaced. His head was still free, and he struggled to get a better look at what they had planned for him.

They removed his boots and socks, then cut away his shirt. For months he had waited for this moment, even begged for it, but now that he was in this half naked state, he was terrified. Months ago, he didn't care what happened to him. He had wanted to feel something, even pain, and he would have welcomed it, but not like this, not when he was so close, when Jim was on his way and his father was dying in that godforsaken place.

The sound of the door opening alerted him to someone's presence. The chair restricted his view, and all he could think about was lying in wait like he was an offering to some sick, masochistic audience. He was surprised there wasn't a windowed gallery above where people could watch the show—no doubt Liu would be in the first row.

His adrenaline was kicking in, which was a good thing, because he wasn't leaving this room anytime soon, and he wouldn't leave it unscathed.

He heard panels opening behind him, along with the clash of metal, like instruments being placed on trays.

"You wouldn't be planning to clean my teeth, would you?" No one answered, but he didn't expect it. "Where am I anyway?"

The door opened again, and this time his new host announced his presence by stepping directly into Leonard's line of sight. Admiral Cartwright, the smug bastard, looked happy, like he was about to sit down to a five-course meal, and Leonard supposed he was. Cartwright wasn't looking at Leonard though, his eyes were fixed on the other person in the room.

"You are on the USS _Resolute_. A _Dreadnought_ -class, built for speed," Cartwright said. "We ready?"

Leonard never heard of that ship, but his thoughts of it were lost when he heard the recognizable, accented voice. His pulse skyrocketed, draining the blood from his head.

"Yes, Admiral." A tray was wheeled forward, and Carol Marcus stepped beside Cartwright.

"Dr. Marcus?" Leonard managed to get the words out. "Carol? What's going on?" He might have thought she was a welcome sight if she wasn't wielding sharp and pointy objects.

"I say we move to the second phase," Cartwright said. "We're wasting time."

"Must I remind you, Admiral, the Directorate agreed to extreme methods as a last resort," Carol said, carefully avoiding Leonard's eyes. "We are to preserve Dr. McCoy's cognitive function."

"My cognitive—just what the hell is going on!"

"This bastard has caused me enough trouble these past months," Cartwright said. "It's only polite I return the favor." He looked just as Leonard remembered. His dark skin clammy, his thin lips pursed tight, and his shoulders set back like the galaxy owed him more than he was due.

"Carol," Leonard pleaded again. "Talk to me. Are you working with him? With them?"

Cartwright started to laugh, finally looking down at Leonard. "Like father, like daughter."

"You're Section 31?" Leonard looked from Cartwright to Carol, trying to meet her eyes, but she kept them averted. "What about Jim? Does he know? Have you worked for them this whole time?"

She straightened her spine, taking a deep breath but still didn’t look at him. "Although the Admiral is partial to torturing you for what we need, Dr. McCoy," she said, cold and distant, "I'm willing to give you one last chance." She gathered her nerve and met his eyes. What Leonard saw was not what he remembered the night they sat together under the stars on the farmhouse porch. Her eyes were a steel gray, empty and hard.

Carol moved the tray to the other side of the chair, away from the Admiral. Picking up a small white pad about two inches square in size, she placed it on his chest, carefully avoiding the touch of his skin. She placed three more on his chest. Leonard had no delusions as to what they were. He recognized electropads when he saw them. Shock therapy was a barbaric practice still used on many colonies throughout the galaxy, and it was still an effective method of torture.

"You're working with these bastards? For how long?" He pulled against the restraints. The night on the porch he thought they had become friends, but she had been fishing for information, and he played right into her hands. Like father like daughter, indeed. She used him, used his feelings against him to get close to Jim. She betrayed them all. "Did you know where I was this whole time?"

"We'd like to take credit for that," Cartwright said, "but if we had taken you this would have been over months ago. Some of us are not as dedicated to the cause. They want to preserve life, but like her father and me, Dr. Marcus understands sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

Leonard's fury and confusion was directed at Carol. If Section 31 hadn't taken him, then who the hell had? And what role did Carol play in all of this. "If you didn't do this to me, then who did?"

"McCoy," Cartwright laughed, "we're about to do a lot more to you than what's already been done. If it wasn't for Dr. Marcus and her bleeding hearts on the Directorate, things would have turned out entirely different for you and the crew of the _Enterprise_."

"One last chance, Dr. McCoy," Carol said with a sharp edge to her voice. "Come forward with the formula willingly, and I promise we will do what we can to save your father."

"It's not that simple," Leonard said. "There's a lot more to it than just a formula. Put my father in a cryotube, and I'll create a working, viable serum to cure him, and all the others on that planet."

"You have a lot of supporters, McCoy," Cartwright said. "Many of whom think your intellect is something to be revered, or even coveted. They wanted to nurture you to our way of thinking. Draw it out so you'd be a willing participant."

"You and I have different definitions of nurture," Leonard said. He glanced down to the pads, then back up to Cartwright's face. Taking a few deep breaths, he prepared himself for what was coming.

"I believe in survival of the fittest. It's the way of life. Always has been, always will be. Some of my colleagues disagree with me, but Marcus, he understood, just as I do." Cartwright pushed a couple of buttons on the screen panel in front of him, and immediately Leonard felt the electrical charge pulse through his system. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, more uncomfortable than anything, but it still managed to make his jaw clench tight. He didn't make much of a sound, and he was grateful for that. When the charge stopped, Leonard's breath came hard and fast.

"Kill or be killed. That's what it comes down to," Cartwright said, then smirked. "That was just a test."

Carol was standing to the side with a PADD in her hand, probably monitoring his vitals. He wondered how he could have shared such an intimate conversation with a woman as cold as her, one who would standby while a man no different than her father, tortured another human being.

"You're a stubborn son of a bitch, McCoy,” said Cartwright. “I knew all along we'd never get anything out of you without force. They tried to break you using their way, but I'm a military man. Might versus right, that's how I see it. Too many liberal sympathizers in our organization. It's my turn now."

His hand swiped at the screen again, and the jolt was much more intense this time, making Leonard scream from the impact. When it stopped, it felt like his blood was on fire, coursing through his veins all over his body. If Cartwright continued to amp up the juice, he was liable to bite off his tongue.

"Just tell me one thing," Leonard said between gasps of air. "Did you start this pandemic?"

Cartwright laughed again, but this time it was a deep, wicked one, straight from the belly. "Here's the thing, McCoy, I don't give a damn about right or wrong, not when the safety of the Federation is at risk. I know you're a sanctimonious asshole, so before we go any further and you can't remember your own name, I want you to know that you'll be responsible for the deaths of thousands. We didn't start the epidemic, but there was nothing done to stop it or prevent its spread. We saw an opportunity and we took it."

Leonard cursed at both his captors, shaking his head back and forth.

"All those deaths are on you, McCoy, because you're too damn righteous and single-minded to see what's right in front of your eyes! You could have had everything. And yet you chose to do nothing."

The pain returned, and this time Leonard saw spots as he closed his eyes. His teeth clamped shut, and he paid careful attention to his tongue, making sure to keep it far away from his teeth. His arms and legs pulled against the restraints, and the tendons in his neck and forearms strained against the electrical current. It felt like his heart was about to give out, expanding in his chest, but then the flow stopped, and he collapsed against the chair, struggling for breath that wouldn't come.

"I can't tell you how satisfying this is," Cartwright said.

"Do you have anything you wish to share, Dr. McCoy?" Carol asked in a detached voice, while her fingers moved quickly over the PADD.

"I don't know why I ever felt sorry for you," Leonard said between panted breaths. "My father and I invited you into our home. I considered you a friend." He was still breathing heavily, still felt the fire in his veins.

"I bet that betrayal hurts more than what we're doing here," Cartwright said, smiling.

"You hated what your father stood for," Leonard said, ignoring Cartwright and keeping his focus on Carol.

This time the pain came from his feet. It caught him off guard, and he screamed without restraint. He hadn't seen the metal rod Cartwright had been holding in his hand, nor swing his arm to make contact with the bare soles of his feet. He had been staring at Carol, and if he saw her flinch when he screamed, she composed herself by the time he'd opened his eyes again.

"That particular spot is a favorite of mine," Cartwright said. "The feet are so sensitive, but I'm sure you know that, don't you, Doctor?" He slammed the rod into Leonard's foot again, hearing a crack when it made contact. The next hit was just as quick, not even giving him time to respond to the pain from the first blow. Through it all, Leonard only had eyes for Carol. He wondered how he could have been so wrong about a person, and wondered how she had fooled Jim. Cartwright was right about one thing, the betrayal from Carol was harder to take than the pain Cartwright was delivering. She was responsible for taking everything away from him. His career, his friends, his home, his father...Jim. She destroyed him the moment he saved Jim's life.

"Why?" he asked through a split and bloody lip. He knew she heard him, for her eyes glanced down to his, but she quickly looked away. She hesitated for a brief moment, then picked up her PADD typing at a frantic pace.

He had been given a reprieve for a few moments, while Cartwright caught his own breath. No longer feeling the spikes of pain pulsing through his body, Leonard knew it was a bad sign. His feet were bruised and possibly broken, while his head had sustained a few blows, not with the rod, but from Cartwright's fists—seemed the man liked to make it personal when it came to the face. Leonard could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness, and it wouldn't be long until he surrendered completely.

A voice echoed on the comm and around the room. "Admiral, we're being hailed. Long range communication."

"By whom?" Cartwright asked. Through Leonard's partially opened left eye, he saw the twitch in the Admiral's face. Something had him angry, or through a blurry haze, Leonard might say he was spooked.

"It's the..." the CO paused, swallowing before giving away who it was. "It's the _Enterprise_."

Leonard braced for the hit, knowing it was coming, but it didn't make it hurt any less. The Admiral swung, slamming the backside of his hand against Leonard's jaw, cursing while he did it. Cartwright tugged his uniform down, smoothing it out then moved to his hair, gently patting it down like he hadn't spent the last hour using Leonard as his personal punching bag.

"At least you'll get to say goodbye," Cartwright said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "On screen, Lieutenant."

 


	22. =/22\=

Leonard smiled despite his bloody mouth, and the shooting pains in various parts of his body. In fact, he laughed. It rose up deep from his belly, making him cough up the blood trickling down his throat. A hand reached out, briefly touching his shoulder making him flinch, and then it was gone like it never happened.

The sound of one voice made his chest swell, pushing against bruised ribs.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS _Enterprise_."

Jim’s face and the bridge of the _Enterprise_ filled the entire screen. Leonard felt the pull of home, and the pull of everything that mattered in his life. He felt the tears well up in his good eye, and his smile split the cut on his lip even further.

Jim was there, beautiful and brave with that spark in his eyes he recognized all too well.

"Kirk," Cartwright said, seething. "The great Hero of the Federation. Last I recall, you’re not a captain of anything."

Jim sat ramrod straight in his captain’s chair, hands placed on the armrests. He seemed at ease, but Leonard noticed his white knuckles as he gripped the chair. Jim kept his focus on Cartwright, never wavering to even glance at Leonard, but this was what Jim did best. If he was troubled by the state of Leonard, he didn’t show it, he kept his emotions impartial, and continued with his duty.

"Cartwright, you’ve committed a violation of civil rights against one, Dr. Leonard McCoy."

"Kirk, do not lecture me on civil rights. This is about war. There are no rights when it comes to the survival of the Federation. We will do what is necessary for victory. That includes Dr. McCoy doing his part. He’s valuable to our survival, and he will comply."

"You have five minutes to surrender him, or we will hunt you down, take out your ship’s defense shields, and we will board you. You will be placed under arrest, where you will be brought to trial by the Federation for the crimes you’ve committed."

"That’s where you’re wrong," Cartwright said. "It’s you who was court-martialed as soon as you left spacedock against orders. You’ve stolen a Federation vessel, and now you’ve threatened an admiral. That’s punishable by death, Kirk. _I’ve_ been given the task of taking you into custody. Your crew, apart from your senior officers, will not be held accountable for your actions as long as you surrender command of that vessel." Cartwright looked like he was taking pleasure from this, but his hand was clenched on the console in front him. "There’s a galactic wide manhunt for you, Kirk. Don’t turn this into a fight, because you will not win, and your people will suffer for it."

Leonard should have known Jim had done the impossible, and risked everything to make this rescue happen, but court-martials and death sentences were more than he bargained.

"Four minutes, Cartwright," Jim said, his voice smooth and lacking emotion, but still carrying a hint of attitude to ruffle Cartwright’s feathers.

"I take it Commander Spock is on board?" Cartwright asked.

Jim glanced to his right, nodding.

"I am, Admiral." Leonard never thought the sound of Spock's impassive voice would warm his soul, and when Spock stepped in front of the screen, hands clasped behind his back, Leonard choked on a sob.

Giving nothing away, Spock tilted his head acknowledging Leonard. It was more than what Jim had done, but Jim wasn't a Vulcan and wore his emotions in plain sight.

"Why don't you talk some logic into your captain, and we can all walk away from this in one piece," Cartwright said.

"I highly doubt that is true, Admiral. It appears Dr. McCoy is already less than whole," Spock said, not even flinching a muscle. "I am incapable of 'talking logic' into humans, and especially humans named James Kirk."

"You'd risk everything you've worked for, your career, the Vulcan council, for these two?" Cartwright asked.

"It is what Dr. McCoy, and anyone who serves aboard the _Enterprise_ , would do," Spock said.

"Three minutes, Cartwright," Jim said.

"You will address me of the title I have earned, you little pissant! I am an admiral of the first order in Starfleet Command. I’ve been commanding ships before you were a pathetic thought in your parent’s minds. Turn yourself in, and I might let your doctor keep the use of his legs, although unnecessary for what we need him to do."

"The _Enterprise_ and her crew are resilient," Jim said.

"What you don’t get," Cartwright said, "is that no one is on your side. You’re alone in this, Kirk, and when it all comes to head, I’m an Admiral, an agent of Section 31, who’s been authorized to get that formula by whatever means necessary, and that is what I intend to do. You, on the other hand, are a hotshot, young captain who can’t follow orders. Why do you think we sent you back to the Academy? At the end of the day, the _Enterprise_ and her crew are a risk to the Federation. Your run-in with Khan and the _Vengeance_ is proof enough for anyone to see. Your reckless actions destroyed half of San Francisco, couple that with numerous disciplinary hearings, and you’re up shit-creek without a paddle. Starfleet can spin this anyway it wants to, Kirk, you just let me know how that’s going to be, and whether you’re going to let your command team and your crew suffer for your defiance."

"Two minutes."

"There is no statute of limitations when it comes to protecting the Federation. We are the law."

"No, Admiral." It was the first sign of Jim’s true feelings coming to surface. "You are not the law. The law does not exist to serve people like you. It exists for the people of the Federation, and you will answer for what you've done on Axius V." Jim leaned forward in his chair. "And I want you to know, I will personally make sure you answer for what you have done to Dr. McCoy."

"You're out of your league, Kirk. You have no jurisdiction. Do you not understand that?"

"What _you_ fail to understand is this: What’s mine, is mine." There was fire in Jim's eyes, burning bright behind the blue. For the first time since the transmission began, Jim’s eyes slowly drifted toward Leonard. Jim’s jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed, and with that one look Leonard felt the power and vigor behind it. Borrowing that strength, Leonard felt a shiver run down his spine, and for the first time in a long time, he believed he would make it out of this.

Jim’s eyes snapped back to Cartwright’s face, like he was burrowing right into him, destroying him from the inside out. "The _Enterprise_ , her crew—hell, I’ll even claim this galaxy—they’re all mine to protect and defend. I don’t like it when things that belong to me are taken. And I especially don’t like it when someone threatens things that are my responsibility." Jim breathed deeply, his jaw clenched in anger. "You have taken someone very personal to me. I see this as an attack on _me_. And unless you want to turn this into an epic battle—which I assure you I will win, because that's how it goes. I do not lose, not ever." Jim paused, leveling his stare with Cartwright's. "You will return what is mine."

Jim’s possessive declaration burned its way through Leonard’s body. If he thought his feelings for Jim had waned in the last year, he grossly underestimated himself. Jim’s commanding voice was all that was needed to ignite the slow, dying spark and turn it into a raging inferno with no hope of containment. His system worked overtime, and he was so tired, and so thin-skinned that he was liable to become a blubbering mess if Jim even glanced his way again. It was the last thing Jim needed, so he bit the inside of his cheek, and concentrated on delivering more pain to combat the tears he didn’t want to shed.

The Admiral raised his phaser to Leonard’s temple, and while Leonard stopped breathing, Jim’s expression remained unchanged.

"That's not going to happen. You need him alive," Jim said.

"I should kill McCoy just to spite you."

"You do that," Jim said, "and I will make sure that everyone you’ve ever loved in this world will pay for your transgressions. Your children’s children will feel my wrath for years to come."

"You and I both know that’s a lie."

"Try me!" Jim yelled, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair.

"Kirk, you’re still an asshole."

"Never said I wasn’t, _Sir_."

Cartwright smiled, but it was far from friendly. It was a fox’s smile, sly and slick and devious to the point of evil.

"Dr. McCoy is free to go," the Admiral said, but the phaser was still aimed at his head. "Just as soon as I’m finished with him, but as you can see I’m just getting started. We tried it the respectable way. We gave him everything he could possibly need, and we did it without force, but this stubborn asshole didn’t know how good he had it. I let the others placate to the good doctor. They hoped he’d come around on his own terms, but now he’ll wish for those days of isolation. He’ll beg for them, but he had his chance. Now it’s my turn. There are ways not overtly sanctioned by Starfleet, things Section 31 has access to that no one dares to mention." He pressed on the controls and the current laced through his body once again, much higher than the last time. The pain overtook him, and his throat burned raw from the sound of his screams echoing around the room.

"Cartwright!" Jim shouted, drowning out Leonard’s own voice.

When the electrical charge stopped, Leonard was panting heavily, whispering to Jim. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm sorry." He said it over and over, wanting Jim to know he was trying to fight back, that he didn't want to give in, and he was sorry he had.

"Remember your old friend, Pike?" Cartwright said, grinning at the screen. "He had a lot of intel on Centurian slugs. Surprisingly a lot when it came to the pain he suffered, and also the awareness of what kind of information he revealed while the slug burrowed itself deep in his spinal cord. If you hadn't gotten to him when you did, there would have been nothing left of his mind. It was McCoy who saved him, put him back together, but who's going to save McCoy?" Cartwright pushed a button and a panel on the wall slid back. Inside, surrounded by a slimy liquid, were two large black crustaceans Leonard could only assume were the slugs, the same kind he removed from Pike.

"You come and find us, Kirk. I promise what’s left of your doctor will be somewhat recognizable."

"Cartwright," Jim said with venom in his voice. "I’m coming for you."

"I welcome it."

The viewscreen went dead, shut off by the admiral. "Lieutenant," Cartwright hailed the bridge. "Set a course for the neutral zone, warp factor seven. We’re going to kill two birds with one stone."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, McCoy. Playtime is over. You’re about to become a very important person. You’ll be the pawn who starts an intergalactic war for the Federation."

Leonard didn’t have much fight left in him, but seeing Jim had given him a dangerous sense of hope. He pleaded to Carol, not for his own life, but for his father's. "Please, Dr. Marcus—Carol—my father," he said between gasps. "Tell Jim to save my father. That’s all I ask." His eye rolled shut, struggling against the pull. He felt the hand on his shoulder again, and this time he didn’t imagine it.

"Keep him awake, Dr. Marcus. I want him to witness this, and know what his insolence has reaped. War, McCoy, and all that comes with it is upon your head."

Leonard heard the hiss of a hypospray next to his ear, and then felt a tingling sensation spread throughout his limbs, minimizing the pain his body was enduring.

"What did you give me?"

"Just a little cocktail of beta blockers," Cartwright said. "I can't have you unconscious for this next part. That wouldn't do at all."

Within seconds his limbs were floating. He could lie in the chair and float all day. The pain was gone, and there was a pleasant hum in his ears. It distracted him enough not to care about the blinding white lights overhead. He blinked a few times, seeing spots in the one eye that still worked, and he wondered why he couldn't open his other eye. He tried looking around the room, but it was too difficult to focus. It was all white and empty.

"Dr. Marcus, I want him prepped." Leonard heard a voice, but it was muffled against the humming sound. "We'll get that formula out of him, as to his mental capacity, that depends on how much fight he has left in him."

Cartwright left the room, and he was alone with Carol.

"You really did a number on all of us, didn't you?" Leonard's words were slurred, but she heard him. "Me, my father, Jim's command and even Spock that green-blooded goon. You got us all."

"I'm sorry, Leonard," Carol whispered, patting his shoulder before turning back to her PADD. Her hands were a fury of movement, typing and touching, and ignoring all of Leonard's curses of being a traitor.

Cartwright returned some time later with another man in tow. "Is he ready?" Cartwright asked.

"Yes, sir," Carol said, still looking at her PADD.

The other man gripped Leonard's jaw, forcing his mouth open while Cartwright reached for the forceps. He picked up one of the slugs, holding it aloft in front of Leonard's face. It was black but shimmered in the light as its legs squirmed back and forth. Leonard's eyes went wide, thrashing in vain against the grip on his jaw.

_Admiral, we are approaching the neutral zone._

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Cartwright said.

_Sir, we're being hailed._

"Your captain is nothing but a dog who needs to be put down. When I'm finished with you, McCoy, I'll see that it's done."

_Sir, you're needed on the bridge._

"I'm a little busy, Lieutenant. Tell Kirk to wait his turn."

 _It's not the_ Enterprise _, sir. There are two Klingon warbirds and another Starship on short-range sensors. The Starship has armed photon torpedoes, and the Klingons are ready to engage._

The hand on Leonard's jaw went slack, and he took that opportunity to pull his head away turning to seek out Carol.

 _Sir, I'm picking up a fourth ship on long-range sensors. I believe it's the_ Enterprise _._

"Well, things just got interesting." Cartwright smiled. "It couldn't have worked out better."

_Prepare for battle stations._

The klaxon rang while the _Resolute_ went on red alert, lights flashed around the room.

"Finish this," Cartwright said, leaving the room.

The man gripped his jaw again, but as he reached for the slug, a phaser blast shot across Leonard's head, hitting the man straight in the chest. He dropped to the floor taking the tray and all of its contents with him. The crash was a hell of a sound, followed by two more phaser blasts that Leonard hoped were those goddamn, creepy slugs.

There was another hiss next to his ear and the fuzziness in his head started to clear, bringing the pain sharply to the forefront. He cried out, unable to hold it back.

"Leonard, stay with me." Carol worked on his restraints, releasing him from the chair, and then her hands cradled his face while she shined a light in his eye. "Come on, Dr. McCoy. That's it. Look at me."

"What the—let go of me!" He tried to bat her hands away but his arms felt like lead.

"It's time to go, Leonard." She had her arm around him, trying to lift him off the chair. She shoved the PADD in his free hand. "This is going to hurt, but we have to get out of this room. It's shielded."

He had no idea what the hell was going on, but the idea of getting out of here was okay with him. As he stepped down, pain shot up his leg, and if it wasn't for Carol's arm under him he would have toppled to the floor.

"You suddenly gain a conscience?" Leonard laughed, aware that his ribs hurt, and he was probably bleeding internally. "Where were you months ago?" He didn't want to accept her help, but the fact he couldn't walk on his own meant he didn't have a choice—although he didn't have to be civil about it. "You gave my father a death sentence."

The red lights were flashing and the klaxon still sounding, and when they reached the doors Carol was ready for the guards, firing her phaser at the two of them before they even drew their weapons.

"You're pretty good at shooting people in the back."

"It's not what you think," Carol said, under her breath, dragging him down the corridor. When they turned the corner, they came upon four more guards. She pushed him against the wall, and if he wasn't in so much pain, he'd take offense to being shoved like that. They were taking fire, and it would only be a matter of time before more guards came. She grabbed the PADD from him, punching furiously again, mumbling to herself. "Come on. Come on."

He could hear the footsteps running getting closer. Two more men appeared at the other end of the corridor, charging toward them, phasers aimed. "If you're going to do something, do it now!" he yelled.

Carol tapped at the PADD a few more times, then pulled something out of the side of it just as a shot was fired, hitting Leonard in the leg. As he screamed, Carol slammed something against his chest and yelled, "Captain! Now!"

 


	23. =/23\=

"Captain! Now!" Carol screamed, slamming something against his chest, and the only thing Leonard understood was that the woman had a set of lungs on her. His ears rang from her harsh scream, and then he felt the telltale signs of being taken apart atom by atom until he disappeared for a fraction of a section, and then reappearing somewhere new.

He collapsed in Carol's arms, his legs too weak to hold himself upright. His head fell back, hitting the floor despite Carol's efforts to catch him. She laid him on his side, and that was when he saw the blood coming from his mouth.

"I think I'm bleeding internally," he said, trying not to choke.

"I got you, Dr. McCoy," she said, smoothing back his hair. "You'll be okay. You're safe, Leonard." She pulled him close, hugging him to her chest. He focused on her eyes—one blue, one green—and when he saw her tears, his body relaxed in her arms. Lights were still flashing red, and the klaxon was ringing, but whatever happened didn't matter, because when he looked up beyond her mismatched eyes, he recognized the panels above him, the sounds around him and even the scent in the air.

He was home.

Carol murmured against his temple. He didn't know what she was saying, but her body rocked with his. "Come on, Leonard. Stay awake!"

He fought to keep his eyes open, he did, but the fires burning inside him were winning the battle. They were calling to him, telling him to let go. It was so much easier to listen to them, to never have to feel anything again.

"Where is the med team?" she screamed.

Her voice was too loud for this place he was slipping into. It was quiet and warm, surrounding him in soft light. He could just close his eyes, surrender to the peace and tranquility, away from sirens and away from pain. He was tired, and the sanctuary being offered to him was long overdue.

Calloused hands gripped his face, but his eyes refused to open. The hand, warm and familiar, moved to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse.

"I'm here, Bones. Don't you dare give up on me. Not after all this. Not like this."

He was jostled onto his back, the movement sending a jolt of pain shooting down his side. Blinding white lights danced under his eyelids, and the pain was enough to jar him awake. His leg screamed back at him, like a conduit straight to his mouth.

"I know, Bones. We're almost there. Just hang on."

_Jim._

"I'm right here." Jim reached for his hand just as an explosion rocked the ship. The klaxon rang again, announcing the red alert.

"The ship," Leonard croaked.

"It's fine. Spock's better at that stuff, anyway." Jim smiled at him, and it felt like a dream to Leonard.

"Gonna tell him that." Leonard tried smiling back, but his lip was too swollen.

"You'd never give him the satisfaction."

They were moving now, travelling the same path Leonard had hundreds of times before, just never lying prone.

The ship rocked again, not as hard as the last blast, but enough for Jim to lose his footing.

"They need you," Leonard said.

"I'm right where I need to be."

As they turned a recognizable corner, he heard the hiss of the double doors to his domain and let himself float away knowing he was in capable hands.

 

=/\=

 

He was falling, not floating this time. Falling toward the ground instead of floating in space. He woke moments before hitting the dirt, hands flailing, reaching for anything and found a strong, capable hand grasp his to bring him back to himself.

"I'm right here, Bones." Jim held his hand, while his other came to rest on Leonard's forehead, soothing the deep creases that had developed over the years.

Leonard looked down at his leg wrapped in a tissue and bone regenerator, high-tech, one he'd never seen.

"The doctor said it'll fully heal in a day or two." Jim's voice was soft and hesitant. "Your kidney's were another matter."

Leonard's free hand gently probed his side, feeling the remnants of a surgical scar. Leonard tried to focus on Jim's face, but his eyes were heavy, and his mind fuzzy from the drug-induced coma he'd just woken from. His confusion must have been apparent for Jim felt the need to explain where he was.

"You're on the _Enterprise_ , Bones. You've had multiple surgeries, but I'll have the doctor come and explain everything." He made a motion to rise, but Leonard gripped tight to Jim's hand.

"No," he said, his voice rough and gritty, he didn't recognize it. A jolt of pain followed his sudden movement, shooting up his spine making him grunt.

"Are you in pain?" Jim asked, and there was regret in his tone.

It seemed Cartwright had more fun with Leonard than he'd thought. He wanted to speak the truth, say he was in excruciating, heart-breaking pain, but instead he shook his head. He didn't want to be pulled under again with the risk of waking up and finding himself alone. There was too much to do, too many questions he needed answered.

He squeezed Jim's hand, seeking his eyes.

"It's really you."

"It's me." Jim sat again, lifting Leonard's hand to his lips and placed a soft, lingering kiss along his knuckles. "You need to rest."

"Don't want to sleep." Leonard shook his head, trying to keep his eyes open. "You came. Then you left." He knew he wasn't making sense, but the drugs they had him on were to blame.

"You're never leaving my sight ever again, Bones. That's an order. Sleep so you can heal."

"The _Enterprise_..." The word came out in a slur.

"Took a few hits, but nothing we're not used to. We're on our way back to Earth. But there'll be lots of time to talk when you're healed."

There was something hazy in the back of his mind, a feeling, something he was supposed to remember. He started to pull away from Jim, struggling to sit up to remember what it was. The monitors started to beep when he got agitated with Jim for trying to stop him. He looked down at their hands and..."My ring—"

"They had to cut it off. I'm sorry, Bones," Jim said, pressing on his shoulder to lay back down.

"No..." The nurse was coming over to answer the frantic beeps of the monitors.

"Bones, it's okay. Scotty can fix it."

"No." He pulled away from Jim's hold. "My father," Leonard choked out, hoping the nurse wasn't going to dose him before he got out what he needed to say.

"You'll see him soon. He's back in San Francisco," Jim said, but Leonard could always tell when he was lying.

"No, Jim—"

"You need to calm down, Bones, or all that work the doctors did will be for nothing." He placed his hand against Leonard's cheek, trying to get him to settle. "Nurse?"

The nurse held up the hypospray, giving him a sympathetic look before pressing it to his neck.

"Don't," he protested, shaking his head, trying to get away. "He's not there."

Leonard watched the surprise register across Jim's face. "How do you know that—"

"Jim," Leonard grabbed his arm, pressing his thumb hard enough to leave a mark, "he was there! Axius. He's down there. Chapel. She'll know. Find Chapel..." It was the last thing he comprehended before sleep pulled him under again.

 

=/\=

 

When Leonard woke this time, it was to the absent sound of machines and scent of antiseptic. The hum of the starship was still present, but the hisses and beeps of medbay were gone. He took a deep breath, comforted by the smell of newness and clean sheets that competed with the offending smell of having not washed in what was probably days. He was aboard the _Enterprise_ , that much he knew, but more importantly, he was back in his old quarters.

He splayed his hands in the sheets, staring at the empty walls and the ceiling. His quarters had been one of the few that weren't damaged in the battle with Khan, but it had been repainted, and the furniture, including the bed, had been replaced. Even without his belongings he recognized his old room. There were four holes in the ceiling above his bed, small, like the size of a nail where Jim had once tacked up a poster of blue skies with white fluffy clouds. It was to help his phobia, Jim had said, and a reminder that no matter how deep in space they travelled, Jim would always get him home to his precious Georgian skies.

He blinked a few times to adjust to the low light, testing the muscles in his legs only to discover the tissue regenerator had been removed. Flexing his toes and his fingers, he caught sight of movement on the other side of the divider.

His eyes met a sea of sadness, but ignored it for now, only smiling in return.

"Hi," Jim said, leaning against the barrier. He was too thin, Leonard noticed, his uniform hanging loosely from his hips.

"Hi." Leonard's voice was thick and dry, but not masked in pain as it had been earlier. Jim came to the side of the bed, holding up a glass of water for him. He drank deeply through the straw, keeping his eyes away from Jim's. "Thanks," he said, and for the life of him he couldn't think of what else to say. So instead, with some difficulty, he moved over on the mattress making room for Jim. He wasn't sure what Jim would do, they'd never been in this predicament before, not even at the Academy and the countless nights they'd spent together. Jim had always kept his distance, finding a couch, or curling up on the floor beside Leonard's bed, never once sharing the mattress despite how uncomfortable it must have been.

Leonard didn't care about weddings or forgotten promises and missed opportunities, he just didn't want to be alone, at least that's what he told himself while he waited for Jim to make a decision.

After a number of beats, Jim sat beside him, keeping his feet resting on the floor.

"What do you need?" Jim asked, and it felt like a timid stranger talking to him, not the man with which he'd shared so many impossible situations.

Leonard fought his disappointment, pushing away all thoughts of Jim lying in a bed beside Carol. The notion he had truly lost everything threatened to overwhelm him. Putting on his best poker face, the one he'd come to master over the last few months, he smiled, seeking out Jim's hand.

"Just this," he said. "Nothing but this." Leonard hoped he was convincing enough for Jim to drop the awkwardness between them. Leonard felt the weight resting on Jim's shoulders from where he lay. An apology waited on Jim's tongue, and Leonard couldn't bear to hear it.

"Don't, Jim," he said, glancing away. "Please don't. I'm alive. You found me. That's all that matters for now."

"For now?"

"Yes. For now. Okay?" The last thing Leonard wanted was an apology about Carol, or anything that had been said the day before he was taken. It was the past Leonard would learn to forget. There was too much to do to wallow in regret for something that may never have happened.

Leonard felt his eyes grow heavy, either from fatigue or the burdens he carried.

"You need your rest."

"Yeah, I do." He grunted, shifting on the bed for a more comfortable position, hoping it would stir Jim to lay with him. He had a million questions to ask Jim, but the exhaustion kicked in with a vengeance. He settled on one question, the most important one he dreaded to hear.

"My father?"

"We found him," Jim said, sweeping the hair from Leonard's forehead. "He's in a quarantine room we set up. He's resting now, and so should you."

"How long?" Leonard's voice cracked. "How long has it been?"

"It's been four days since Liu took you from Axius V."

"Stasis?" Leonard asked, looking at the holes in the ceiling.

Jim's silence was all he needed to hear. He knew it was a long shot the _Enterprise_ would have pods on board, and they were too far from Earth or any access to that kind of ancient technology. He should be rushing to his father's bedside, but after the last conversation he had with him, and what he'd asked Leonard to do, he didn't have the strength to have it again, not right now.

"What about Chapel?"

"We have her, too." Jim chuckled, shaking his head. "A M'Benga? And a feisty little Andorian who insisted on coming, as well. They're a little over-protective of their irritable leader, but it shouldn't surprise me when it comes to you, Bones. We all are."

Hearing the news about his friends and his father put his soul at ease, like he could finally let everything go and pass the responsibility onto capable hands.

"What happened to Cartwright? Liu? What the hell, Jim." He started to rise, but Jim pushed him back toward the pillow.

"There's lots of time for all of that. Starfleet is...well...we're handling it."

Leonard heard the lie, but Jim was right, he didn't want to think about them right now. Other priorities took precedence over revenge.

"Axius V?"

"The Federation is sending ships to help with the plague. They're giving your team all the resources they need to find a cure once we reach Earth. You did it, Bones. I don't know how you did it, or where you've been, but you did it your way on your terms."

"At what cost?" He choked on a sob, turning away from Jim.

"Hey, hey," Jim whispered. The mattress shifted and Jim's body slid behind him, his arm wrapping around Leonard, pulling him close. "Don't do this to yourself, Bones."

"My father's going to die. All those people on that station...I've lost everything."

"Not everything." Soft lips nestled below his ear. Jim's warm breath on his skin caused a shiver down Leonard's spine. His heart was too full of sorrow to react how he wanted, but he took comfort in Jim's solid and present body entwined with his.

After some time, Leonard's eyes drifted close. He could sleep now, just a while longer in Jim's arms, enough to gain his strength to face the upcoming battles that were far from over.

 

=/\=

 

Leonard sat up with a jolt, wondering briefly where he was, then tried to scramble out of the bed.

"Bones, hey. It's okay, you're all right."

"My father. I need to see my father. How long have I been out?"

"Only a couple of hours." Jim stretched his arms in the air, shaking them out to get some feeling back in them.

A wave of nausea swept over Leonard. He ripped the covers off, struggling to get his feet on the ground. He was still weak, but if he didn't get out of bed, Jim would regret holding him back.

"Bones—"

"Don't, Jim. Just—" He choked on the need to vomit, holding the back of his hand over his mouth.

"All right, you stubborn ass." Jim held up a bucket, one from med bay, passing it to Leonard. "They said this might happen." Jim's hands held Leonard's shoulders as he bent over the bucket. "Let me help you, Bones."

It happened too fast for Leonard to be embarrassed. There wasn't much in his stomach, so it was mostly dry heaves. When he finished, Jim took the bucket, rinsing it out in the bathroom.

"Well, that was fun," Leonard said.

"Yeah, but let's not do it again anytime soon."

Leonard tried to stand, but Jim was quick on his feet grabbing hold of him before Leonard fell on his face. "Take it easy, Bones. There's a chair out there, and I've been threatened with castration if I don't make you use it."

Leonard snorted. "Who did?"

"Who do you think?" Jim wrapped an arm around Leonard's waist, taking slow steps to the living area where the bright, shiny chair waited for him.

"She's quite a lady."

"The chair or Chapel?" Jim asked

"At least that's a constant." Leonard smiled.

"What is?"

"Your stupid humor," Leonard said.

Jim's cheeks flushed, and he quickly looked away. "I've missed you, Bones," Jim whispered.

Leonard should have asked about Carol, but he wanted to be selfish for a little while longer. He didn't want to share Jim just yet, not when he could be blissfully ignorant on their relationship. He should tell Jim about Christine, but Jim was a smart man and most likely made an educated guess as to the relationship he had with Christine. It was petty and foolish to hold on to, just so Carol and Jim hurt less, but the heart was never prudent.

Leonard folded himself into the chair, patting Jim's hand in what he hoped was friendly reciprocity.

"We've made him as comfortable as we can," Jim said.

"Your polite way of saying he's dying. And wants me to speed up the process."

Jim pushed the chair toward the door, and his silence spoke the words he couldn't.

Once through the door, Jim added, "Lissan and M'Benga are working around the clock to find a cure. Chapel has been a constant at your father's bedside. Quite the little army you've got, Bones." Leonard heard the pride in Jim's voice even if it was laced with envy.

"Not my army," Leonard said. "We're just a bunch of misfits gravitating toward a cure. Doing our jobs."

"If you say so." Jim patted his shoulder, then pushed him through the transporter door, before turning to face him. "Bones..."

He'd yet to push a destination button, probably hoping to lessen the blow Leonard would face once he saw his father.

"Jim, I've been dealing with this epidemic for weeks. I know exactly what to expect, and what's going to happen to him." If his father was exhibiting symptoms like he saw on the planet, Leonard would put on a brave face and deal with it like the professional he was. "I haven't seen him for four days, which means he's coughing up a lot of blood, probably shitting it, too. And don't give me that look. I goddamn know what it'll be like!" He yelled the last bit, slamming his hand against the arm of the chair. Covering his face, he took a deep breath and felt the transporter moving them to their destination. Jim never said another word as he wheeled him toward the med bay.

Before they entered the doors, Jim put a hand on his shoulder, then cupped the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb softly to soothe him—it was a level of intimacy the two had never shared. He could feel the heat radiating off Jim, but it did nothing to stop the cold growing inside of him.

"Let me walk in there, at least," Leonard said, clearing his throat.

Jim helped him stand, and it took all of his effort to rise without showing Jim just how weak his muscles were. Months ago, he'd been the fittest of his life, now he was a shell of his former self.

"I'm a little shaky," he confessed.

"You got this, old man."

And for the first time in a long while, he believed that he did.

 


	24. =/24\=

Leonard wasn't ready for a reunion, but when his eyes landed on the people he thought had long given up on him, tears of wonder swelled in his eyes. There was an ache in his chest that wasn't anything like the aches from the past few days, or even months. It settled inside him, and if Jim hadn't been holding him upright his knees would have buckled. The room fell silent, everyone stopping to watch him and his unruly emotions.

"What are y'all goddamn staring at?" Leonard hoped his voice was steady, and his tone was still familiar. He gave them a devious grin, then raised his eyebrow to let them know he was okay. "You've all seen a dead man rise from the grave before."

Uhura was the first to wrap her arms around him, pulling him tight and unforgiving. He remembered the scent of sandalwood that always followed her and he breathed in deeply before letting her go.

"Welcome home, Leonard," she whispered.

"Home?" Leonard said and laughed.

"Just shut up. It's home and you know it."

He patted her shoulders softly, holding on longer than he would have in the past. "It feels awful nice to be here."

She wiped her cheeks, then placed her hands on either side of his face. "You scared the shit out of us!" she said, kissing him. "Don't ever do that again."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dr. McCoy." Chekov bobbed his head a few times, looking at the floor, then back up to Leonard's face, his cheeks flushed red. He stuttered while trying to decide if he could hug Leonard, so he helped him decide by giving the kid a quick hug, patting his back twice before releasing him.

"We have missed you very much." Pavel's eyes were wide and expectant.

"Missed you too, kid."

When he turned to Sulu, his resolve broke. He pulled the man into his arms, and if it was longer than he hugged the others, no one paid them any mind.

"Thank you," Leonard whispered into his ear. "Thank you for everything you and your husband did for my father." Sulu's grip was fierce in return, and they kept silent letting their emotions speak for themselves. Leonard would never forget what everyone did for him, but he would forever be indebted to Hikaru.

Spock was in the lab behind the glass, bent over scanners and screens. He was in a full protection suit, but he paused in his ministrations to acknowledge Leonard, simply tilting his head to the side, before returning to his work.

"He's not stopped," Jim said, voice low and thick. "We forced Lissan to get some sleep, despite her protests, but the ship is running on a skeleton crew and Spock has ordered a rest rotation of a few hours for everyone except himself."

The doors to the med bay opened and in walked the chief engineer.

"Well, look what the metaphorical cat dragged in." Scotty's grin was wide and bright, and he seemed overly pleased with himself.

"Mr. Scott," Leonard greeted him, nodding his head then laughing as Scotty rocked on his heels with his hands behind his back.

"Scotty was the one who figured out how to beam you out of the _Resolute_ ," Jim said.

"Travelling at the speed of light, let me remind you," Scotty said, "and nowhere in the vicinity of that wee bastard of a ship, either. No small feat, that is. My portable trans-warp beaming device and that thieving, bastard Khan were good for something."

"All right, Scotty, he gets the point." Jim waved his hand, trying to speed him up, but all it did was bring attention to Jim's hold around Leonard's waist. Scotty's smiled faded, and his skin paled. "If I had just figured it out sooner...If I could have beamed you out before..."

"Scotty," Leonard leaned into Jim while he stretched out his hand to the engineer, "don't trouble yourself with could'ves or should'ves. I'm here, aren't I? And still have all my pieces."

Scotty smiled, but the sadness was still there. "Aye," he said, and met Leonard the rest of the way, gripping his forearm with both hands and holding tight. "That you are."

These people were the best people Leonard had ever known, and probably ever will, and they had come for him, risking everything to find him. How he thought he could walk away from them, live a fulfilling life, he didn't know. Standing so close under the harsh lights of the med bay, he understood the toll his absence had put his friends through, and how high that toll was, higher than anything he'd imagined while stuck in that sterile prison.  Their bonds of friendship had been built on trauma and chaos, forged together years ago out of loyalty and respect, and more importantly love. They couldn't get those wasted months back, but the bonds were stronger than ever.

"Leonard," Uhura gently rubbed his arm, "Dr. Chapel is waiting for you in the isolation room."

 

=/\=

 

"Dad?" Leonard whispered. The sound in the room was muffled underneath the protective gear. He could hear the hiss of the oxygen being pumped through the room to clean the air, and the beeps letting him know his father's heart still beat. He didn't want to disturb him if he was resting, but the need to see him, to talk to him, outweighed his concern. He took a few steps closer to the chair set up beside the bed. "You awake?"

"Not sleeping," his father said, his voice thick with rest. "Just checking for holes in my eyelids." David McCoy smiled, then slowly opened his eyes, blinking to focus on his son. The relief Leonard felt, buckled him into the chair beside the bed.

David's eyes went wide as they travelled the length of Leonard, finally resting on the fading bruises on his face. "They told me you got pretty banged up."

"Could've been a lot worse." Leonard went to pat the tender patch around his eye, but the suit was in the way.

"So, they tell me," David said, pulling the oxygen mask from his face.

"Hey, don't do that." Leonard reached for the mask.

"You telling me what to do now, son?"

"Sounds like someone needs to, you old fool."

Leonard put the oxygen mask back in place, nudging his father's hands out of the way. They kept the silence between them for a few breaths, neither of them willing to breach the peace before the inevitable. David McCoy was dying, and it was obvious to Leonard from one look at the pain seated deep in his eyes. There was a murkiness in the depths, like a dark road one couldn't turn back from.

"They tried it all," David said, sighing.

"Not everything."

"No."

"There's still time. You keeping fighting until we get to Earth. I saved a man from death once before—"

"Look where that got you" David said. "We already had this discussion. I don't want to spend my last few days arguing with you. So shut your goddamn mouth for once, and let me lay my weary eyes on you without you mouthing off to your ol' man."

Leonard raised his eyebrow, but didn't open his mouth.

David smiled. "Save it, son. That eyebrow went sky high to your hairline before you could even talk. Just like your mother's. Except hers was the only one that worked on me."

"I thought you were supposed to be on the good drugs. Those meds should make you more compliant."

"Oh, I am, and believe me, they are." David winked. "You're lucky I don't take you behind that curtain and lay my belt to your backside. Knock some sense into that thick skull of yours."

"I think I'm a little old for that."

"Poppycock. You're still my son, and I got a can of whoop-ass around here somewhere." He started to cough, and Leonard helped him with his mask.

"A can of whoop-ass isn't much good without a can opener," Leonard said, patting his dad's shoulder, placating him and his corny banter.

"Miss Christine left me one." David grunted, then concentrated on getting his breathing under control. After some time he sought Leonard's eyes.

"You gonna tell me how you did it?" His father's voice was soft, but Leonard didn't miss the curtness buried in it. "It must be complex if no one's been able to replicate what you did. I know you're brilliant, son, but sooner or later someone should've cracked it. So, I'm betting it's risky what you did. Something so asinine you know damn well it never should've been done, and never done again."

Leonard never told a soul what he had done to achieve the serum to save Jim's life. He'd gone through so many discreet channels to get what he needed, no one would even suspect he'd risk so much.

"Protomatter," Leonard whispered. "I infused Khan's blood with protomatter."

Leonard could count the number of times he had seen disappointment in his father's eyes. There was the time he'd stolen his father's meds and sold them, the day he proposed to his ex-wife, and when he told him they were divorcing, and then of course, there was the day he joined Starfleet. But none of those times compared to what he saw right then on his father's face. He couldn't bear it while he lay dying.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"How could you? Where did you even get your hands on it? No," he shook his head, "I don't want to know."

Leonard expected the cussing, and the yelling, but he never expected the utter condemnation, and it sucker-punched him.

"Do you have any idea..." David sighed. "Of course you do. That's why you won't replicate it."

"The repercussions are too grave," Leonard volunteered. "The potential to doom an entire planet wasn't something I was willing to hand over. And the irony is, I've done it anyway."

"This disease is not your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"Dammit, Leonard! I won't hear it!" The coughing started again, and it racked through David's chest until tears slid down the sides of his cheeks.

"I'll let you rest," Leonard said once it had subsided. He started to rise from chair.

"Sit down!" It was a command Leonard knew from his childhood, and his legs automatically bent to place his ass in the chair.

"I understand you weren't in your right mind when you did it, son, but you could've destroyed the solar system. There's a reason why it's illegal throughout the Federation."

"I know, believe me, I know. The tribble was easy, but a human was a lot more _involved._ The cell regeneration was too complex, and I couldn't stabilize Jim's blood. It's highly volatile, but I only needed a little to make it work. It was..." Leonard shrugged. "...a boost."

"That's a helluva boost."

"It wasn't easy, to say the least, but I wasn't thinking. I didn't care."

"You really do love him."

"Yeah, Dad, I do." Leonard took a deep breath. "Enough to risk the lives of billions."

David reached out his hand, and Leonard wished the barrier of the glove wasn't between them. The ache was back in his chest, but seeing the love and understanding in his father's eyes made it all worth it.

They talked of Leonard's imprisonment, and where he had been until the door whooshed open, but Leonard knew who it was from the smile on his father's face. It was easy to see how close the two had become, what they had suffered through together.

"Jim," David said, raising his other hand for him to hold. "My son was just sharing what the hell he's been up to these past few months. Isolation prisons, cryotubes, pretty doctors, smugglers...I'm not sure whose story is more far-fetched. Ours or his?"

"Oh, it's a competition now?" Leonard asked shaking his head.

"It might be, Bones."

"Well, while you two were wining and dining admirals and getting engaged, I was having a mental breakdown in my own personal rubber room which actually lacked the rubber. I think I win."

"Now, hold on," David said. "You haven't heard our side of the story. What Jim and Carol did, and your crew—"

"David," Jim said, patting his hand, "I think Bones wins." The two shared soft smiles, Jim nodding ever so slightly. Leonard didn't know what was behind it, but he sure as hell would find out.

"You're right," David said with a chuckle. "All those steak dinners and champagne brunches got tiresome after awhile."

"Speaking of dinners, Bones, you haven't eaten anything for a few days. Christine wrestled up something and put it in your office."

"Thanks, Jim."

"Well, don't let it get cold," David said. "I'll take that rest now."

Leonard's stomach chose that opportune moment to speak up and growled. "Guess it has been awhile since I ate."

"Go on. I ain't going anywhere," and then David added, "not today, anyway, unless my son changes his mind." The room grew quiet, Jim and Leonard's breaths catching.

"David," Jim said, his face was a world of hurt. "This is...I'm sorry, Bones."

"Now hold on. Neither of you gets to play the goddamn martyr. I won't have it. I should have listened to you, Jim. I was the stupid and desperate one, and if I'd have followed your instructions this would be a different reunion."

"I should have done a better job protecting you," Jim said.

"You did more than any good man could." David pulled Jim's hand across his chest.

It never occurred to Leonard to blame Jim for what happened to his father, but Jim had taken on that burden all by himself.

"I promised Bones I'd watch over you," Jim said, avoiding Leonard's eye.

"And you did," David said. "What's happened to me is no more your fault than Leonard's, even though both of you want to take credit for it."

Leonard looked beyond the window of the isolation room, to his friends standing guard, working silently, but keeping a watchful eye on Leonard and Jim. Their burdens were as evident as Jim's, and their pain as relevant as his own. This would cost them more than each of them were willing to pay. The anger he'd been suppressing since he woke, pushed its way to the surface and nothing could be done to stop it.

"We'll make them pay for what they've done," Leonard said, resounding bitterness in his voice.

David struggled to sit up, but settled on turning a frown on Leonard when it proved too difficult. "Leonard," he said, sighing. "When something like this happens, revenge is our first instinct. But that's not who you are. Your mother and I didn't raise you that way. Fighting fire with fire is not the McCoy way. We don't seek out those who've done us harm. We get stronger, and overcome our hardships, and you're better than all of this, son."

Leonard could feel Jim's eyes on him, but he was afraid to look his way. He didn't know what he'd find there in his face, whether he agreed or disagreed with his father, he didn't want to be influenced by it. "Not this time."

"You _must_ be better than them," David continued. "I see those people out there." He raised a shaky hand to the window, at the people in the lab, his friends, his crew. "That's the future we're striving for. They're the Starfleet I'd be proud of. They've shown me there _is_ good in the organization. That's the future I want you to believe in, and those people out there, you and Jim, you'll make sure that future comes to pass."

"I need to make this right." Leonard's jaw was clenched tight. He didn't want to hear what his father had to say, there was too much anger in him, he knew this, but the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint him one last time. So instead, he settled on a partial truth.

"If you're looking for redemption, it doesn't lie with me," David said. "It lies in the years ahead of you and the good you'll do out here. This is where you belong."

"I can't do this without you, Dad."

A long silence pushed its way into the room. Leonard thought his father might have fallen asleep, but then his lungs rattled as he struggled for another breath.

"Those people out there are just as much your family, Leonard. You're not alone. You never have been, and never will be."

His father placed Leonard's hand on Jim's, all three of them linked, resting on his chest.

"I don't want to go," he said, "but it's my time to leave."

Jim's hand twisted around until it held Leonard's. He squeezed it hard, then placed his other hand on top. "Whatever you need, David, I'll see to it."

"Jim—"

"Like he said, Bones," Jim raised his eyes to meet Leonard's, "you're not alone."

The implication was clear in Jim's voice. If Leonard couldn't grant David's last request, Jim would help in whatever capacity he was needed. It was too much to take right now. In some ways it felt like it was days ago he was kissing Jim in his hotel room, and in other ways it felt like years. There had been days when all he had was time, and now there wasn't enough. This was a complete mess, filled with regrets and missteps, and wasted opportunities, but what Jim was telling him while he held his hand and straightened his shoulders, was that this was his mess, too.   

As Leonard stood above his dying father, he locked on to Jim's bright eyes, and in that one look he knew what it meant to understand someone so completely, faults and all.

"Now," David said, interrupting their silent conversation, "give an old man some peace, will you? From the looks of you, you're still going 'round your asses to get to your elbows. Let me rest, and don't come back until you sort yourselves out."

 


	25. =/25\=

Leonard hadn't eaten in days, and when his stomach rebelled, Christine forced him to sit in his office and share a meal with Jim. Neither of them spoke of significant things. It was easier to ignore the impending death of David McCoy, and easier to ignore what was underlying between the two of them. Leonard didn't think it was awkward, so much as obvious, until he became mighty concerned with the food on his plate.

The last few days settled heavily, weighing him down until even his arms seemed impossible to lift. He could stop all of this, save his father, and save the people on the station only to damn the whole galaxy later. It was the easy, selfish decision to make and no one would question him for making it. But when he thought of the people outside his office, he knew it wasn't that simple. They risked everything to find him because they were the type of people who made sacrifices for others, and if Leonard ever wanted to face them again, he had to live up to their convictions.

When the silence turned painstakingly obvious, Leonard set his fork on his empty plate. "You going to tell me what happened after you got me out of there?"

Jim took one last mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully until Leonard ran out of patience.

"Jim..."

"The _Resolute_ went into the neutral zone." He glanced down at his plate. "We couldn't follow, not unless we wanted to start a war. One rogue ship could be explained by Starfleet, two, not a chance. We were ordered to stand down. We complied."

Leonard recognized the bitterness and disappointment in Jim's voice. "You mean Spock complied." Jim's eyes shot up, accusing and full of anger. "And he was right, Jim."

"We had them in range."

"What, a pandemic isn't enough damage for you?" Leonard chuckled. "Spock did the right thing, and you know it. If the _Enterprise_ had gone after the _Resolute_ , war with the Klingons would have been inevitable. And that was what Cartwright and Liu wanted."

Jim took a deep breath. "I know, Bones. I was close, too. Can't say I wouldn't have done it. If I wasn't compelled to stay while you were in surgery..."

"Compelled?" Leonard raised his eyebrow, knowing just how compelling Spock could be. Jim rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad we didn't find out for both our sakes, Jim. I would've led the charge."

They drank the last of their water, pushing their plates aside.

"Barnett is negotiating another treaty with the Klingons," Jim said, "but it doesn't look good. Starfleet wants unfettered access to the neutral zone to bring in the _Resolute._ Their warbirds are no match for it, but the Klingons are refusing the neutrality of Starfleet ships. They think it's a plot on the Federation's part."

"Well, they're not wrong on that front," Leonard said. "Cartwright's intent on picking up Marcus' reins."

"They won't get away with this," Jim said through gritted teeth.

"No, they won't," Leonard agreed, then after a beat added, "Any word about Reed?"

"Reed?" Jim asked, brows furrowed.

"He was at the tribunal with Cartwright and Liu."

"An admiral?" Jim asked, and Leonard nodded. "I've never heard of him. I'll have to ask Carol."

They sat in silence for a few breaths, neither of them wanting to bring up certain subjects. Leonard had many questions, and none of them would be comfortable. Thankfully, Jim decided to forge ahead.

"How long until your team has a cure?"

"Weeks, at least," Leonard said, head down, picking at his napkin. "Maybe longer. We're close, but not close enough."

"Say the word, Bones. I'll turn the ship around if Earth isn't where you want to be. I'll give you whatever you need."

Leonard felt the sorrow in Jim's declaration. He longed to set foot on his home planet, but it wouldn't change anything. They wouldn't make it in time, and they wouldn't find a stasis pod to save his father. "If only it were that easy."

"What do you want?" Jim asked, leaning forward. "What do you need?"

"What I want is for them to suffer like my father is suffering, just like the thousands of people on that station. But what I want doesn't matter," Leonard said, rubbing his face in his hands. "Someone needs to be held accountable for Starfleet's actions."

"They were operating independently."

"That's bullshit! Someone knew about it. Someone in Starfleet, and whether they turned their heads, they were operating under the guise of Starfleet and that is on every one of us for allowing an organization within Starfleet to operate without accountability.

"We are the guardians, Jim! The gatekeepers of civility and honor in the galaxy. There never should have been a Section 31, but there is, and they've destroyed the lives of thousands. They've gone unchecked for too long. I want justice! That's what I want." He slammed his hand down on the table, making the cups turn over, and the dishes rattle. His breaths came hard and fast, his chest aching with the injustice of it all.

Jim wouldn't look at him. He kept his head toward the floor, clenching his jaw in anger. His hand swiped at the corner of his eye as he cleared his throat. "You'll have it, Bones. I couldn't fulfill my promise, but this one I will."

Leonard's tirade must have travelled outside of his office, so he wasn't surprised by the knock on the door. Christine at least had the decency to blush at the interruption.

"We have everything under control," she said, giving Leonard a warm smile. "There's nothing more you can do, right now. You two look like you're about to fall on your asses." Leonard was keen to argue, but she cut him off. "You need your rest. Both of you." She cleared their trays, heading toward the door. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder and winked. "Jim, take this man to bed."

Leonard's face grew warm, forcing him to hide behind his hands. After the painfully serious conversation he and Jim just had, he was ready for a change of topic, any topic except this one.

"Doctor's orders." Jim laughed as he rose from the desk. "Where was she two years ago?"

"On this ship," Leonard said, through his hands, "believe it or not."

"Really?"

Leonard grabbed tightly to the neutral conversation, following Jim through the door. "She was a nurse. Puri's."

"Huh," Jim said, leading the way, slowly, so as not to push Leonard too fast.

"Said I inspired her to become a doctor." Leonard smiled at Jim, his voice somewhat boastful.

"I'm sure it was more my command, if anything. You know, saving the ship and the lives of everyone on Earth."

"No, she said it was me," Leonard said. "In fact, she doesn't even like you."

"What?" Jim said, stopping, even if it was for Leonard to catch his breath. "What's not to like?"

"Do you want a list?"

"Maybe." Jim led them toward the transporter. "I don't even know her, Bones."

"Therein lies the problem. Apparently, you do know each other. In a very carnal way." Leonard watched Jim squirm.

"I don't think so." He frowned.

"She was also Carol's roommate at the Academy."

" _She's_ the roommate?"

"So, you do know her."

"Well, it's been a few years..."

"Three, maybe four, Jim."

"It was a crazy time!"

"Is there anyone you haven't slept with?"

The doors to the transporter shut, and before Jim pushed the button, he turned to Leonard, placing his hands on either side of Leonard's face.

"You." It was said above a whisper, but it echoed in the tiny space. Jim leaned in, softly placing his lips on Leonard's and there was no mistaking his intentions. This wasn't some chaste kiss in a hotel room where Jim would run out of minutes later. This was what Leonard had held out for, but as much as he wanted this, the little voice inside his head wouldn't shut up.

Pushing away, he had to ask. "Carol?"

"What about her?"

Leonard held Jim at arm's length, moving him to the other side of the transporter. "Oh, I don't know. The whole fiancé thing doesn't ring a bell?"

"The what?" Jim asked, like he'd been hit in the face.

"The engagement. I saw the goddamn invitation!"

"How did you—Oh!" Jim smacked his hand to his forehead. "The _roommate,"_ he mumbled under his breath. "What the hell were the chances of that?" Then he proceeded to laugh. "Of all the places you get imprisoned to, it's a station where someone knows Carol."

"What the hell, Jim!"

"It was all an act." He made a gesture with his hands, moving toward Leonard again, backing him against the wall.

"An act? Why?" Leonard still resisted his moves, holding him by the shoulders.

Jim bowed his head, and sighed insufferably loud. "You want to do this right now?"

Leonard fixed him with his eyebrow.

"Fine," Jim said, taking a step back to fold his arms. "It was an undercover thing—the only way to get to Section 31. They wanted to stay close to me, and I wanted to stay close to them. They recruited Carol, hoping she'd pick up the banner of her father's principles. It was a way to stay connected without suspicion. Carol...what she did, Bones, I can never repay her. What she had to go through to gain their trust..." He shook his head, taking a deep breath before looking Leonard in the eyes. "She's family now."

He understood what Jim meant by that. Christine meant the same to him, as did the others from Axius V. They would all be accepted into the _Enterprise_ fold—action through bravery and conviction. They would fit right in.

"She never knew about your father. They kept that from her, or we would've stopped them." Jim bowed his head. "That's on me, Bones."

"Jim—"

"There's been no one since you were taken." Jim leaned in again, reaching to take Leonard's head gently in his hands. Leonard resisted for a half second before he let the kiss happen. Jim nipped at his lower lip, sucking and licking, kissing him deeply until Leonard almost forgot everything. Almost.

"Jim, I have to tell you—"

Jim rested his forehead against Leonard's, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Would you shut up, Bones? I'm trying to impress you with my moves."

"You should know that Christine and I—"

"Don't," he said pushing away. "I don't want to hear it unless you're telling me you've moved on." Jim swallowed hard, looking up at the ceiling, and that was when Leonard saw the strain Jim's body had gone through. He said there had been no one else, and from the looks of him, he'd done nothing but run his body into the ground.

"Moved on?" Leonard asked.

"Was I too late, Bones?" he whispered.

"Too late?" Leonard scoffed, throwing his arms up in the air. He didn't regret his time with Christine, not in the slightest, but it was rather ironic the reason he fell into bed with her in the first place lay solely on the lie of Jim and Carol's fake engagement. "Do you have _any_ idea what the hell I've been thinking, let alone doing, these past few months?" Leonard threw his hands in the air. "I imagined entire conversations with you, to the point where I thought you were a divot on the wall. And the worst part was that you talked back to me! I was alone, Jim, for a hundred and eight days. No contact from a single soul. I went _insane!_ And all that time, I thought you were insane with me. The only thing I hung on to was that damn, wasted kiss in the hotel room." Leonard gripped his fingers in his hair. "Moved on? Ha! I'm not the one who got fake engaged, and didn't bother to mention this the second my eyes opened! You goddamn, son of...dammit, Jim!"

He pushed away from the wall, grabbing hold of Jim's gold shirt, crushing him against him. He'd surprised Jim, and for a moment Jim's lips were slack, his arms held stiffly at his sides, but then Jim shifted, pulling Leonard flush against him, raking his teeth against the hollow of Leonard's throat. It was clumsy, awkward at first, but it didn't take long before they found their rhythm. It turned needy and desperate as their hands reached for each other, trying to drag their shirts up to find skin.

He'd dreamt about this more times than he was willing to admit, but each time there was only the sensation of kissing Jim, a distant shadow never fully coming to fruition. He had been missing the way his heart sped up, and the way his blood could pound in his ears. He'd forgotten how Jim smelled, that hint of adrenaline and sweat mixed with the sweetness of mint. He breathed it in deeply, and it went straight to his cock.

"I thought I lost you," Jim said, catching his breath, "and I never got the chance to have you." Jim's eyes were dark, his lips red and swollen, and his hair was mussed from where Leonard had run his hands through it.

"Now you know what it's like," Leonard said, his breaths coming heavy and fast. He reached for Jim again, but he put his hands on Leonard's chest.

"Wait, wait—wait, Bones," Jim said, taking a few deep breaths. "I want this more than anything, but we have time."

Jim didn't need to say what he meant, that his father was dying, along with the thousands of people on Axius V, and their needs might not be the most pertinent thing right now. But if there was anything Leonard had learned in the last year it was that life was fleeting.

"I'm not denying I'm in pain. There's a world of hurt inside me, but missed opportunities are the devil's work." Leonard's hand twisted in Jim's shirt. "You asked what I need, Jim. And this is it. We don't know what's coming our way, but I can assure you there'll be more suffering before it's all done, and there's already been too much of it."

Jim's eyes were shining, and the corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm tempted to have Scotty beam us to my quarters."

Leonard laughed, pushing the button on the transporter, and the doors opened before he managed to straighten himself out. Luckily, the corridors were empty, and they were inside Jim's room—which seemed a lot smaller than he'd remembered—before anyone saw them. They were a few feet apart, but it might as well have been opposite ends of the ship.

Leonard's palms were sweating, and he was having trouble swallowing, his mouth having suddenly turned dry.

"Maybe we should have a drink?" Jim asked, looking in the cupboard.

Leonard cleared his throat, trying for some moisture. "I probably shouldn't." Jim's head came up. Leonard shrugged. "Meds."

"Right. Right." Jim rubbed his hands together, turning in a circle looking for a distraction.

Things had gone from almost-blowjobs in the transporter, to virginal, teenaged awkwardness. The bed loomed in the corner of Leonard's eye, and his heart pounded so loud he was sure Jim could hear it. It was all too much, and not enough at the same time.

"We don't have to," Jim said just above a whisper. "I mean, I want to, I really want to, but we can just..."

"Shut up, Jim." Leonard turned on his heel, heading into the bedroom knowing Jim would follow. Anticipation be damned, he thought. He would have Jim, and he wasn't leaving this room until he did. If it wasn't going to happen now, it never would, and he wouldn't waste another minute without knowing the touch of Jim's skin on his.

Jim was silent as he came up behind Leonard. He paused, then wrapped his arms around Leonard, pressing his body close to Leonard's. Jim rested his head on Leonard's shoulder, and the two breathed deeply until they relaxed into the embrace. They stayed like that long enough until Jim's hardness matched his own. Turning, Leonard kissed him, swallowing the moan from Jim's lips. They kissed with their hips lined up, pressing hard against each other, until Leonard had to break away.

"Jim, if you make me come in my pants, I'll never forgive you."

Jim made an undignified sound, smiling as he held Leonard's face in his hands. His eyes held so much joy it was impossible not to smile with him. "God, I've missed you, Bones."

He guided Leonard toward the bed, discarding Leonard's shirt along the way. Jim made quick work of their clothes, and as he stood at the edge of the bed, the never-modest Jim Kirk seemed unbearably shy. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Jim naked, but it was the first time he'd laid eyes on his naked form with this kind of desire.

"You're too skinny," he said.

"You're one to talk," Jim said, while Leonard pulled him near. There was a new scar along Jim's left side, above his hip. Leonard ghosted his fingers along the edge of the faded, white tissue, trailing upward across his chest, and then back to the scar.

"We ran into some trouble a while back," Jim offered, lying beside Leonard on the bed.

"Looking for me?" Leonard placed his hand flat over the white line.

"No stone unturned."

"I expect a full report later," he said, with a grim smile. The extent of what Jim and the others went through sunk in. He didn't want to think about it now; there would be time for those tales and the guilt that went with them. Right now, it was about the two of them and the long road it took to get here.

Jim's eyes swept up and down Leonard's body like he was the mystery in all of this, when it was Jim who was the unknown. Leonard thought he would die alone in that cell. He'd shed many tears at the thought, raged at so many concrete walls, and now he was here in this bed with the man who embodied his thoughts and dreams for such a long time, and got him through those lonely, dark days, that his hands wouldn't stop trembling as they trailed up and down Jim's flesh.

"Bones," Jim whispered, taking his hand in his, and covering his body with his own, "what do you want?" His eyes were dark with need, and Leonard's must have been as well. He should have been embarrassed under the kind of attention Jim was giving him, but the feel of Jim's warm body, lying on top of his had pushed all doubt out of his head. He'd waited years for this moment, and nothing he'd imagined had prepared him for that question, but there was only one thing we wanted.

"I want you inside me," Leonard said without hesitation.

Jim's eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, not once, but twice, then he breathed deeply, their chests pushing up against each other, making Leonard want Jim that much more.

"I need to feel you, Jim," Leonard said, shifting his legs to emphasize his words. He wanted Jim to claim him even if he couldn't admit it aloud. "That's what I want."

"God, Bones." Jim took a deep breath resting his forehead on Leonard's chest. "Are you sure?"

"You're going to make me ask again?"

Jim trailed kisses down Leonard's chest, licking and sucking until he found his nipple. Leonard arched his hips, moaning as Jim circled it with his tongue, then moved on to the other one. Jim reached for the table beside the bed, but Leonard didn't pay much attention, he was too busy concentrating on not coming the moment Jim's mouth covered his cock. Jim swirled his tongue around the tip, keeping his eyes fixated on Leonard's before he swallowed all of Leonard.

"Fuck." Leonard drew in a deep breath, cursing Jim as he moaned around Leonard's cock, and it was all he could do to stop himself from coming in Jim's mouth. "Need more, Jim," he begged. He threw his head back so he didn't have to look into those eyes and see everything he wanted and hoped for. This would all be over before it got started if he surrendered to that.

Leonard bit his lip the moment Jim's slick finger entered him. He was gentle with Leonard, stroking the inside of his thigh as he pushed deeper, fitting another finger alongside the first. It had been awhile for Leonard, but not too long that he didn't remember the burn and the pleasure that came with it. He could feel himself falling apart as Jim stretched him until he was lost in the sensation, and was desperate to have Jim inside him.

"God, Bones. I never thought..." Jim's voice was thick, surprising Leonard with the rawness in it.

Leonard didn't trust his own voice, so he lifted his knees, encouraging Jim, telling him he needed this too. Jim kissed him once more, and then he was there, pushing the head of his cock into Leonard.

"Fuck," Leonard breathed, grasping at Jim's arms as he slowly slid in, inch by inch. When he was deep inside of Leonard, Jim leaned his forehead against his, watching and waiting, breathing deeply. When it became too much, like they would never move again, and they would never be apart again, like Leonard was finally complete after all of these years, Leonard tilted his hips in silent invitation.

"Bones," Jim whispered, still holding out. "Is this okay?"

"It won't be if you don't fucking move," Leonard said between gritted teeth, making Jim chuckle, but compliant at least. Jim pulled back, then pushed in again, making Leonard groan out his pleasure.

"More," Leonard said, so Jim's thrusts came harder, shorter, and Leonard's moans were louder and sounded somewhat deprived. "Harder."

Jim found his mouth, sliding his tongue over his, wet and dirty, and when Jim took hold of his cock, Leonard tumbled over the edge, coming with a broken shout that was years of built up longing and want.

"I'm sorry, Bones," Jim gasped, his thrusts gaining momentum. "I'm sorry." He buried his head in the side of Leonard's neck, breathing him in, and mouthing the apology repeatedly. He drove into Leonard, deep and hard, making him feel alive again after all of those endless days of being lifeless and forgotten. "I should have found you," Jim choked out. "I was supposed to find you." He pushed into Leonard one last time before shuddering and going still.

 


	26. =/26\=

It was a while before either of them felt like speaking. Jim's confession of guilt hung heavy in the air, and Leonard didn't know what to do with it. Jim blamed himself for what happened to Leonard, but what Jim didn't understand, and probably never would, was that he did find Leonard. It wasn't the ending Jim might have wanted—he wanted to be the big, damn hero before Cartwright ever got his hands on Leonard, but Leonard was safe aboard the _Enterprise,_ and that was because of Jim. What Leonard was afraid to ask was why Jim was in this bed with him. Was it a sense of duty or guilt, or was it something more, and if Leonard wanted to make it out of this room with his soul intact, he had to know the truth.

He pulled his arm out from under Jim, lying flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling. "I've had a long time to think about this, Jim." His voice sounded foreign to him, vulnerable, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Nothing but time to wonder what you were doing, whose arms you were seeking comfort in, and whether or not this was a one-sided thing between us. I need to know what this is to you." Jim lay on his side, his arm resting across Leonard's chest, and he felt the tension in Jim's body, coiled tightly ready to spring.

"After this," Leonard ran his hand through his hair, "I think I can walk away. I think I can give you up after this one time, and still be okay. I'm giving you an out if you want it. We can serve together, be friends like before, but I won't be your guilty burden, Jim. If that's what this was, tell me now."

Leonard couldn't bear to look Jim's way, but he forced himself to, silently promising he wouldn't be devastated by whatever answer came forth. Jim's expression was more severe than Leonard thought the conversation required. He thought he knew all of Jim's looks, but this one was rather elusive. Their bodies were still entwined, sharing the lingering heat and sweat, but it was Jim's unrelenting stare that made him flush. Leonard felt the urge to move out from underneath Jim to avoid that look, but then the corners of Jim's mouth softened, and his eyes filled with tears he wouldn't shed.

"Bones," he said, swallowing the thick emotion, "when I thought I lost you...I—" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, inching closer to Leonard. "It took me a long time to realize what this was, this thing between us. You knew long before I did, but this ship, this rank, all of it means nothing..." Jim placed his lips on Leonard's, lingering long enough to leave Leonard wanting more. "I mean nothing if you're not here with me."

Leonard pushed up to his elbow, watching Jim carefully. For months he'd been waiting for this moment, to have Jim lying beside him with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and now that he did, it felt like they always had this. He'd built his life around Jim, and now that it was here he didn't know what to do with it, he didn't know if he was the same person he'd been.

"I'm pretty messed up, Jim," he said, sliding his fingers across Jim's jaw, making him smile.

"So am I."

"That kind of isolation...it does something to a man." Leonard thought of those desperate days that melded into one, where he slept through waking dreams and dreamt through waking days, when the loneliness drove him mad beyond reason, and how he would have to deal with it at some point. "This won't work if you feel responsible for it."

"Bones," Jim said, rolling onto his back. His hand rested on the new scar Leonard had noticed earlier, scratching at it lightly. "It wasn't easy. I know you had it a lot worse, but it wasn't easy for any of us." Leonard kept quiet, hoping Jim would tell him more, but Jim closed his eyes for a few breaths, then gathered Leonard in his arms again. He understood and respected Jim's need to tell his side when he was ready. Maybe he never would, or maybe they would both reveal a little bit each time they lay in bed, naked next to the other. Leonard was curious, but maybe he wasn't ready to hear it either.

"I bet there's a shit-storm waiting for us back on Earth," Leonard said grinning at Jim, and when Jim met his eyes they both laughed.

"Shit-storm might be putting it lightly." Jim leaned up, kissing him with a surprised sweetness. One kiss followed another, until Jim sighed, falling against his pillow.

"I know my role in all of this, Bones. I was the catalyst in everything that happened to you, and within Starfleet. I accepted that a long time ago. We'd all be in a different place right now if I hadn't waged a war on Khan."

"We would," Leonard said, knowing it was pointless to lie to Jim. "But we can't change the past, and we have to accept the roles we played to get here."

"Wise words," Jim whispered. "Your father said the same thing to me whenever we reached a roadblock."

Leonard felt the conversation turn on its axis. It was inevitable even though he was avoiding it. Jim had been given months with his father that Leonard would never get to experience. He knew they'd gotten close, and he was happy for it, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat bitter knowing he wouldn't get that time back. "I'm not sure I'll come out of this the same man you remember." He spoke the truth, hoping Jim would understand. He'd been afraid of this, afraid they'd both grown apart in the months of absence.

"Neither of us will." Jim rolled on top of him, his weight heavy and warm, cataloguing everything his eyes landed on. "And I'm not going anywhere. What can I do?"

"I'm not ready to let him go. Not like that." Leonard turned to stare at the wall.

"Then let me help you." Jim dropped his head, nuzzling the spot below Leonard's ear. His mouth slipped to a new spot on his neck, licking and sucking lightly. He nosed Leonard's cheek, kissing him with the tiniest bit of teeth.

Leonard breathed deeply. It rattled in his chest as he blew out a shaky breath knowing what he had to do. He gently pushed Jim away, sliding out from under him to reach for his pants, keeping his eyes focused on the task. In his heart he knew Jim would do anything he asked...even this, but Leonard wouldn't damn the man he loved like that.

"No," he said, steeling his voice. "It has to be me."

 

=/\=

 

In the course of a few hours, David's symptoms had progressed enough to leave a frail, old man in his place. The suffering was evident in his face now, and leaving his father in that kind of pain for longer than necessary would only devastate Leonard that much more. He was surprised by how quick his father had turned for the worse, and Leonard had to wonder if David's stubborn will was enough to advance his symptoms to alleviate Leonard's guilt.

They had their private goodbye that wasn't really a goodbye. They reminisced about Leonard's mother and the happy times they shared, but also the times Leonard was a little shit and deserved every bit of punishment David doled out. They talked until the pain was too great, and David silently pleaded with sorrowful eyes until Leonard left to begin his preparations. He created the cocktail himself, refusing help from Christine and M'Benga. While he appreciated their compassion, he was his father's son, and he would be the one to bring his father the dignity he asked for.

The crew settled around David's bed with Leonard and Jim at his side, and Jim's arm wrapped tight around Leonard's shoulder. Christine and Nyota had formed a fast friendship, and the two took comfort in each other's arms, trying to be strong for Leonard, but failing. The only person missing was Carol, who had been called to Admiral Barnett's ship when Leonard was rescued. Everyone was dressed in their finest uniforms under their protective gear, everyone apart from Leonard who wore the standard black pants and boots, and settled on a black, long-sleeved shirt instead of the gray and blue jacket. He refused to wear it when Jim tried to coax him into it, he didn't feel comfortable wearing a Starfleet uniform, and possibly never would. That uniform was tainted, and until he made things right, he wouldn't put it on, especially now saying goodbye to the one man who didn't deserve any of this.

David's one request was a song Leonard remembered fondly from his childhood. When he thought of those memories, it brought to mind open windows in the kitchen with a billowing breeze at the curtains, and the smell of fresh rain on the farm. His parents used to dance to the song, swaying together to the melody and singing about a man who shot another man from old western times, which if Leonard thought about it now, was rather morbid even if the man was heralded a hero in the lyrics.

"This is a terrible song," Leonard said into Jim's ear, and Jim chuckled.

"It really is." Jim pulled him a little closer, and Leonard took his strength.

When the song finished, David's hand reached for his son's. "Leonard," he said, and he wished he could properly hold it without the protection of the suit or the mask so his father could see his face, but it was one of the conditions David insisted upon.

"I'm here. I'm with you, Dad."

"That was nice." His gaze was distant and glassy from the drugs as he looked past Leonard's shoulder. "Risa really is beautiful." He wanted his father to die without pain, and if it made him hallucinate somewhat, at least it was one hell of a hallucination.

"It sure is," Leonard said, softly.

"Always wanted to come here with your mother." He smiled then, and winked, making Leonard blush and the rest of them snicker.

"Thank you," David said, then lifted his other hand to no one in particular. "There she is," he said, and the smile that graced his father's face broke Leonard's heart until all he could do was let out a choked sob.

His father's death was quick and quiet. There were no machines beeping to the slow fade of his heart, or anyone hovering to monitor his pulse. Family surrounded him, and when his father's breaths were few and far between, Leonard broke away from Jim, kneeling next to the bed to hold tight to his father's hand. And just when Leonard thought it was over, David turned his head, and with clear eyes and a smile full of grace, he whispered, "Give 'em hell, son."

 

=/\=

 

By the time Leonard lifted his head from the bed, the room had been cleared apart from Jim.

"Bones," Jim said, pulling him to his chest. "They'll take care of what needs to be done."

"I want him buried on the farm beside my mother."

"It'll be done."

Leonard allowed Jim to lead him from the room and back to his quarters. They lay on his bed, and after some time, when Leonard thought Jim might have fallen asleep, Jim broke the silence of the dead.

"I never knew death first hand," he said. "It always surrounded me growing up, but I never experienced it, not until Pike died. It's hard to imagine when someone dies, someone you love, and the mystery of it all. Where does all that love go, Bones?" Jim asked.

"I don't know," Leonard said in truth. He had experience with saying goodbye to the people he loved, but it didn't mean he had any answers.

"What happens to that personality that's larger than life," Jim's voice caught, "that you've loved so much for so long—how does it suddenly end? Where does it go?"

"I don't think it ends, Jim," Leonard said, pulling him closer. "I think it evolves. It grows into other things."

"After Pike died, I didn't know how to grieve his death." His hand rubbed circles on Leonard's back. "I never allowed anyone close enough to grieve them like that. I was so angry," Jim admitted.

"I remember."

Jim paused for a moment, then scoffed at the truth of Leonard's words. "I didn't know how to cope, so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ran."

"And it cost you your life." Leonard knew where this conversation was leading, but Leonard wasn't Jim. He'd dealt with grief his entire life. He would see this through, the right and just way, the way his father would be proud of him.

"My father was one of the best men I'll ever know," Leonard said. "If I become half the man he was, then I'll have lived a good life. His death will haunt me, but I'll move on. Learn and grow from it—become the man he wanted me to be."

"You are, Bones. We grew close this past year. He was every bit the father I hoped mine had been. He was unbelievably proud of you."

"He's really gone," Leonard choked out. "He's gone." He tried to roll away, but Jim refused to let him go, so the only thing Leonard could do was cling to Jim while the grief racked his body until sleep pulled him under.

When he woke, Jim's arms were still around him, but he was awake, staring up at the ceiling, and Leonard thought he might be able to read Jim's mind.

"You going to lose command of her?" Leonard asked.

"No," Jim said, and left it at that, but Leonard felt the strain in his arms.

"You sure?" He pulled away, raising his eyebrow while he waited for Jim to convince him.

"I might get a disciplinary hearing," Jim rolled his eyes, "or something along those lines for disobeying orders—"

"And stealing a ship—"

" _My_ ship," Jim said, sitting up.

"Right. Your ship that you didn't have permission to take and wasn't ready to leave spacedock."

"Scotty assured me she was ready."

"Jim—"

"Enough, Bones!" Jim jumped out of the bed, glaring at Leonard with his hands on his hips. "It was worth it, all right?" He left the room, and an ominous pit formed in Leonard's stomach. He was about to follow, but Jim came back with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses in his hands. "Whatever happens to me, to us, it was worth it." His voice was quiet, and he wouldn't meet Leonard's eyes as he poured the drinks. "You were worth it."

Leonard took the offered glass, taking a long sip, appreciating the burn as it went down his throat. "Helluva gesture."

"You thought you were the only romantic one?" Jim asked, head still bowed, but his lip was turned up in a smile.

If there was anyone who could understand consequences it was the two of them. Leonard would more than likely have to testify, probably in a long list of hearings, and he'd be happy to go public with anything he'd been through if it meant Jim could keep his ship, and keep the crew he considered family. They had promises to deliver, and Leonard wasn't going to break them.

"Speaking of consequences..." Leonard said, taking another drink to gain some courage. "I might've promised a few things to Mudd."

" _Mudd!_ Bones..." Jim shook his head. "What did you do?"

"Nothing the Hero of the Federation can't handle, right?" Leonard smiled, making room on the bed for Jim.

"Goddamn it, Bones." He poured another drink for himself, slammed it back then poured one more. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"The answer to that question is more than likely no." Leonard was laughing now, Jim's expression was filled with disgust and exasperation.

"Maybe I should rethink this whole rescue business."

"You call that a rescue? I'll have you know that I was doing just fine—"

"Bones," Jim said, putting their glasses on the table. He pushed Leonard down, pinning him to the mattress. "What did you promise him?"

Leonard licked his lips, tilting his hips up slightly at the contact of Jim's warm body on top of him. "I might've promised he'd be one of the first to get the cure or the vaccine—god-willing—we find one."

"That's not so bad." Jim relaxed his grip on Leonard's arms.

"And he'd be the first one off the station."

"Okay..."

Leonard shut his eyes tight. "On his own ship."

"Bones!"

"With warp capability." Leonard opened one eye carefully.

"A warp ship? You promised him a new ship?"

"We might have touched on the topic at some point during our negotiations." Leonard tried to shrug under Jim's hands.

Jim straddled his hips, holding him down with one hand on his chest. "Anything else?"

"There might have been some other things." He placed his hand over Jim's.

"Such as?"

He squeezed Jim's hand as he blurted out what he needed to say in one breath. "Harry would get carte blanche anytime the _Enterprise_ and her captain crossed his path."

"Goddamn it, Bones! I have to let that scoundrel do whatever the hell he wants on his brand new, shiny ship whenever we run into him doing god-knows-what in the galaxy?"

"Pretty much." Leonard was smiling, and it felt good to smile. It had been too long since he felt this kind of warmth and camaraderie, and just general ease with another person. This was why he'd fallen in love with Jim. They were good together, the best, and even though Leonard's heart was filled with sorrow, it was always Jim who put him on the right path to happiness. "Oh, and he might want his cases of Romulan ale back."

"What?" Jim swore under his breath.

"With interest."

Jim rubbed his face. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Can't say you won't, Jim," Leonard said with a slight chuckle. "But then you wouldn't have had this." Leonard grabbed Jim's ass, grinding against him so Jim could feel how hard he was. "I'm thinking it was a good deal." Leonard closed his hand over Jim's cock, stroking him through his pants. It fit nicely in his palm, thick and as hard as Leonard's, and when Jim took a steadying breath, Leonard reached under the waistband of Jim's pants.

"The power of your negotiation skills astounds me, Bones."

"I bet it does," he said, pulling Jim to his lips. He kissed him, leaving a trail along his neck, biting a little, enough to distract Jim to flip them over. His tongue flicked along his earlobe, making Jim shiver and start to protest, but he shushed him. He needed Jim's strength and his surrender, needed to be in control when everything in his world wanted to slip away from him.

Leonard's grief was present, but with every piece of clothing he removed, the heaviness subsided until he was left with nothing but the two of them naked and nothing else between them.

 

=/\=

 

Sleep wouldn't come, so he left Jim in his bed resting soundly, while Leonard's feet carried him toward the lab. The last few days, possibly months, had finally caught up to Jim, pulling him so far under he didn't even twitch as Leonard maneuvered out from under him.

It wasn't thoughts of his father keeping Leonard awake, there were too many things rattling around in his brain to allow the death of his father to take center stage. It would at some point, but between the disease and Jim, and Cartwright and Liu out there trying to start a war, Leonard figured the best way to combat sleeplessness was to put himself to work.

When the doors to the lap opened, he was surprised by the lone figure in the semi-darkened room.

"Spock!" Leonard said, not hiding his shock.

"Good evening, Doctor," he said, looking up from his PADD. He wasn't hunched over, Spock didn't hunch, but he was engaged with whatever was on his screen.

"I thought you would have retired with the others," Leonard said.

"While Mr. Sulu has the conn, it was logical I make use of my time. As you are aware, Doctor, Vulcans require less sleep than humans."

Leonard glanced around the room at the empty stations. "Scare everyone away, did you?" Leonard asked, smiling.

"I do not see how I could scare anyone away, since I do not incite fear in the people who work on this ship."

"I see nothing's changed, Mr. Spock." Leonard laughed, moving around the bench to see what Spock was studying.

"An inaccurate statement, Doctor. In fact, many things have changed during your absence, most of all the captain."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?" Leonard asked, drawing out the word.

"No, Doctor, I do not." Spock looked back at the PADD.

"You know, I actually forgot how your disposition is sunnier than a ray of sunshine." Spock went to protest, but Leonard beat him to it. "It's an expression!"

Spock pulled up his data onto a larger screen so they could both look at it.

"This disease is quite fascinating."

"It really is," Leonard said, crossing his arms. "It reminds me of a twenty-first century virus, but it's truly quite unique. I thought it might have mutated from it, but from what we've discovered, it's something new. It's eluding us."

"The Red Death," Spock said.

"I hate that goddamn name."

" _'No pestilence had ever been so fatal or so hideous,'_ " Spock said, quoting Poe as he swiped at the screen to bring up new data. "It is fitting in that regard; however, the virus is not species specific. The Red Death, as they are calling it, is illogical."

"Well, what do you know, I said the same thing," Leonard said, clapping Spock on the back. "I'm not sure I like the idea we're thinking the same things."

"I can assure you, Doctor, we are not."

"Always on point, aren't you, Mr. Spock? You keep that up, and I'm going to admit I missed you." Spock looked like he was chewing on something, and Leonard waited to hear what he had to say, but when it looked like Spock might have an aneurysm, Leonard saved him that fate. "It's okay to feel, Spock. I missed you, too."

"Feeling is not something I choose to do; however, I will admit your presence on this ship is welcomed."

It was the most Leonard would get from Spock, so he saved them from the inevitable awkwardness, filling him in on the work he was doing with Lissan. Spock admitted he wasn't an expert when it came to immunology, but he was studying the disease to learn what he could to bring a fresh approach to their exhausted findings. He was working with Lissan and her theory, and they might have made some headway to slow the progression of the disease. They wouldn't know until they started trials, and were waiting for Leonard to share their findings.

"Thank you, Spock," Leonard said.

"For what, Doctor?"

For his tireless research, for keeping Jim on the right path, for keeping him sane, for safe guarding his father, for risking his career and his life for Leonard, for watching over everyone and being the voice of reason when they all needed it...for caring. He wanted to say all of those things, but he couldn't. Instead, he tilted his head nodding once, hoping it conveyed everything he was feeling.

"You are welcome, Leonard."

The endearment of using his name was enough to start the waterworks again, but this was Spock, and he'd be damned if he cried in front of the Vulcan.

He cleared his throat, then asked, "Is Jim...was Jim okay?"

Spock raised his eyebrow to his hairline, mulling the question over, more than likely wondering what was appropriate to divulge.

"For a long time Jim was not himself," Spock said. "I believe now that he has found you, he will be once again."

Spock would never betray Jim, his loyalty to him was strong, but Spock had used their names, and that was proof enough how things had changed in the months he was away. Leonard figured they were friends enough that it was Spock's way of comforting Leonard in the best way he knew how. Jim had been a mess, but Spock and the rest of the crew had taken care of their captain, their friend, while Leonard was gone. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing Leonard needed to hear.

"In full disclosure, Doctor, I let the _Resolute_ escape. Not the captain."

"You did the right thing. I think this triumvirate of ours has seen enough vengeance, and made enough mistakes in the name of revenge. Justice will be done, but it'll be done the right way."

"A logical assessment, Doctor," Spock said, placing his hands behind his back. "It is very... _inhuman_ of you."

"Now, Spock, don't go insulting me when we're having a moment."

"On the contrary, Dr. McCoy, it was a compliment, one of the highest regards when it comes to you."

Leonard folded his arms, bouncing on his toes. "You really did miss me, didn't you?"

 


	27. =/27\=

_=/Earth\=_

"Dr. McCoy! Dr. McCoy!"

Leonard's head was down, shielding him from the blustering wind and the cameras lined up along the walkway. Jim had warned him this would happen, but so far Leonard had been lucky to stay out of the newsfeeds. It was inevitable, he supposed. As soon as the cure was announced, and the team responsible for the miraculous work was leaked to the public, Leonard's days of anonymity were over. Starfleet conceded on giving him credit as a way of restoring his professional reputation. He was no longer labeled as the doctor who had gone mad from the pressures of space, but as the man who relentlessly worked on a cure for one of the most devastating viruses the galaxy had ever seen.

The fleet had contained the infected on Axius V, and rescued the uninfected, essentially becoming the saviors of the Federation once again. There wasn't going to be a 'tell-all' book about Leonard and what he'd gone through, Starfleet had silenced everyone on the _Enterprise_ as soon as they arrived back on Earth. The proceedings would be an internal affair, which was fine by Leonard as long as the people who had perished would be acknowledged—including his father, and Axius V got the aid they needed to recover from the disaster. Starfleet couldn't risk the details of what happened to spread throughout the Federation, even though the rumors were abundant, so it was the best resolution they could all agree to.

"Dr. McCoy! Is it true the pandemic on Axius V was another terrorist plot? The same organization behind the London attack and Starfleet headquarters last year?"

Leonard grunted, but continued down the walkway. They were closer to the truth, and he wondered where they were getting their information. He wasn't about to risk his career and his new life to set them straight, not when he was so close to having all of this behind him.

The _Enterprise_ arrived back to Earth after David's death, and immediately his team jumped in, working vigorously with the samples they collected from the sick on Axius V. Leonard worked in the lab, while Jim and the rest of the crew worked to track down Cartwright and Liu, and usurp the rest of Section 31 with the help of Carol Marcus. They were given a reprieve from any of the tribunals or disciplinary hearings until a cure was discovered, and it was weeks later when Leonard, with the help of Lissan's research, was able to synthesize a viable serum.

"Lieutenant Commander!" Another reporter had managed to break through the lines, and was headed his way. "Doctor! Can I have one statement?" He chased Leonard down the steps, away from the hospital.

One of the conditions of Leonard's reinstatement was to avoid reporters, and never engage in their questions, but each day it was more difficult. The vultures were getting pieces and extrapolating the rest. The man followed him repeating his plea, and when he finally caught up to Leonard, he shoved a comm in his face and asked, "Is it true you were one of the doctors responsible for the Red Death on Axius V?"

Leonard paused in his step, not enough to call attention to himself, but it was enough to feel the cold pit in his stomach expand.

The reporter continued. "Did Starfleet sanction the origin of the disease? Did you spearhead the project?"

He hadn't looked at the man, not daring to, and he couldn't describe him if he tried, but they were all alike as far as he was concerned. Reaching for the truth, and coming up empty, looking for someone to blame for thousands of tragic deaths, but the truth was, the disease had started from a mutation in nature, and there was nothing genetically modified about it. It was bad luck the disease found its way to Axius V, and it spread the way it did, because Section 31 let it.

Leonard kept walking, pushing his way through the wave of reporters who'd followed the man and broken through the lines. If Leonard didn't pick up his pace he would soon be overwhelmed.

"Did the project get away from you? How does it feel to be responsible for thousands of death?"

He turned on his heel without thinking, barreling through the crowd and finding the little weasel who hit all the right nerves.

"Now, you wait just a minute," he said, his finger dangerously close to the middle of the man's chest.

"Leonard!" He heard the hum of a vehicle and the honking of a horn. "Leonard!"

The crowd surrounded him, but through a part in the sea of bodies, he noticed a woman hanging out the side of a hovercar, clutching to the open door.

"Get in!"

"Sorry, folks," Leonard said, smiling and tipping his head toward them. "Love to stay and chat, but that's my ride." He rushed to the vehicle, jumping in seconds before Carol Marcus pulled away from the curb.

"Dr. Marcus," Leonard said by way of greeting.  

"You looked like you could use some help."

"Don't I always?"

"Such vultures," she said maneuvering through traffic.  

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"I recognize some of them," she said. "Always looking for a scandal. It was the same when my father was branded a traitor."

She was thinner than he remembered. He hadn't seen much of her since they'd gotten back. He sought her out a few times, but she was always conveniently occupied. Jim told him to give her some space, so that's what he did. She was haunted, they all were, but the light in Carol's eyes was different since they returned. Jim didn't know the truth of what she'd done to convince Cartwright to trust her. Leonard could only imagine what Cartwright demanded of her, and if she had been atoning for her father's sins, she would have done anything if it meant taking the organization down. Leonard grieved for the innocent woman who had stepped foot on the shuttle with them a year ago.

"Where were you heading, Dr. McCoy?" she asked, briefly glancing his way.

"Leonard," he corrected her. "I thought we'd forgone the formalities."

"Yes, _Leonard._ "

"I suspect I'm heading the same place as you."

"You look good being back in blue," she said, admiring his uniform.

"Finally feels right to wear it," he said. "Been a long time since it did."

"So, this is it?" she said smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It will all be over after today. You'll get your justice."

"It's about damn time," Leonard said, tapping his thumb on his knee—a habit he'd picked up somewhere in the last six weeks. "Haven't had much time to process everything, or so my mandatory therapist keeps reminding me." He flexed his hand to stop the tapping.

"Today should help." Carol reached across the console to hold his hand briefly.

"If there was any justice, the Klingons would get their way, and they'd be sentenced to Rura Penthe."

"That would be quite fitting!" she laughed.

Starfleet, with the help of the Klingon nation, had finalized the capture of the _Resolute_ , and Cartwright and Liu had been taken into custody to face a number of charges on Earth, including treason. It had been a surprising turn in what could be a tentative treaty between the two warring nations, and one of the only good things to come out of the disastrous year.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when your father..." she said, trailing off. "I wanted to be."

"I know, Carol."

"David came to mean a lot to me, to all of us, and I'm sorry I didn't protect him."

"Not you, too." Leonard chuckled, squeezing her hand. His heart still let him know the hurt was there, but it wasn't as piercing when he talked about his father. "If we're going to have a ship full of martyrs we'll have to rename the _Enterprise_ the USS _Joan_." He managed a genuine laugh from her, and it eased him to hear it.

"Carol, I'll never forget what you did for me and my dad, and he would be the first to say, 'You're family, darlin',' and I know you haven't made up your mind about serving aboard the _Enterprise_ , but family sticks together. We'd love it if you came with us."

"Provided you still have a ship!" She pointed at him and winked.

"There is that." Leonard rolled his eyes.

"You don't seem worried."

"Haven't you heard? Jim's got a horseshoe up his ass. Luckiest son of a bitch in the galaxy." Leonard didn't believe in luck, but he did believe that somewhere in the universe there were three honorable men looking out for Jim and all of his. Leonard didn't think Command would take Jim's ship from him, not if they wanted to prevent a mutiny, but when they woke this morning, Jim's nerves were raw, and not even a morning blowjob and eased them.

The vehicle pulled up to the new Starfleet headquarters, and when Leonard gripped the handle of the car, he felt like he was gripping the fate of his future. "This is it," he said, taking a deep breath. It would be a closed hearing, and no one apart from the officers with clearance would be admitted to the room. A part of him had wanted the public to know, but he was slapped with so many gag orders, that for a few days, Leonard was afraid to speak to Jim.

Officially, he had been granted his medical license back, and his rank was restored, but that was all dependent on complying with Starfleet's orders. As long as he would see justice served, Leonard could live with it, even if the people of the galaxy would never know the truth of what happened; there were some things they weren't ready for.

They entered the lobby, seeing the rest of the crew from the _Enterprise_.

"There you are!" Jim said, meeting them halfway. "I thought you might work right through it."

"Might've been a good idea." He patted his stomach, wishing he could warm the cold pit nestled there.

Jim kissed Carol's cheek, then pulled Leonard into a quick hug, before kissing him on the lips. Leonard's stomach flipped, and the pit burned up, leaving a flush of warmth along his skin where Jim had touched him. Those cavalier touches had become so much more, and he no longer wondered what it felt like to have fingertips replaced with Jim's mouth. They were as strong as ever, the two of them, and Leonard knew what it felt like to be the center of Jim's universe.

"Just some trouble with reporters."

"You didn't hit one, did you?" Jim asked, examining his knuckles.

"No!" He pulled his hand away. "I was saved by my knight in blue armor." Leonard nodded his head toward Carol.

"I thought I was your knight?"

"More like my frog," Leonard grumbled.

Jim started to protest, but the opening of the double doors interrupted him. A woman with the rank of lieutenant waited until she had their full attention.

"The sentencing hearings will commence shortly, but before the proceedings begin, Fleet Admiral Morrow would like to take the opportunity to speak with the following personnel." She looked down at the PADD in her hand, reading from the screen. "Captain James T. Kirk, Dr. Carol J. Marcus and Dr. Leonard H. McCoy."

"This can't be good," Leonard mumbled in Jim's ear. It was curious she called Jim by rank, but Carol and Leonard by title. It meant this meeting was personal more than it was professional. That pit in his stomach grew cold again. Sensing Leonard's distress, Jim placed his hand on his shoulder, pushing him toward the doors.

"It's not like before," he whispered, and Jim was right. Starfleet headquarters had been rebuilt in the time he was away, so nothing was recognizable. The room was much larger, like a theatre with rows of seating on an angle, and at the front was a long bench shaped in a semi-circle with enough chairs for all of the admirals to be seated. There were only three present at the front, and Leonard knew them all, even if Jim and Carol didn't.

They followed the lieutenant to a long table at the front where she asked them to sit before she left the room.

Leonard's palms were sweating, and the rush of blood pounded in his ears as his heart raced when he looked at the one man he'd wanted to forget but never could, not until he figured out his role in all of this. If it wasn't for the two people on either side of him, he might have bolted for the doors.

"Dr. McCoy," Admiral Barnett said, indicating he should rise, so he did, using the table to support his weak knees.

"A grievous assault has been committed against you, Dr. McCoy, one we will not overlook," Fleet Admiral Morrow said. His hands were folded in front of him, his back straight as he stared Leonard in the eyes. "But I'm afraid you won't get the full justice you deserve today." Morrow and Barnett knew Jim all too well, and before Jim could start his protest, they held up their hands, silencing him with one gesture.

While Morrow and Barnett were formidable, Leonard's eyes deferred to the man sitting to the left of Morrow who was impervious and apathetic.

"Do you recognize me, Dr. McCoy?" the man asked, all emotion drawn from his face.

"Admiral Reed, if I'm not mistaken?" Leonard hoped his voice sounded steadier than his knees were.

"Do you know what I do?"

"Not in the slightest," Leonard said, gaining courage. "But I'm sure we're all here because of you." Through the countless mission briefings and interviews Leonard had gone through, never once had anyone spoken of Reed. Jim and Carol had never heard of him, and no one mentioned his name when he spoke of the three admirals who had condemned his life. Liu and Cartwright were behind bars awaiting their sentence, but this man was a ghost, sitting in front of him with his rank and freedom.

"You truly are an intelligent and stubborn man," Reed said, his voice indifferent. "I was the one who orchestrated the plan to have you moved to my custody. It was my men who were ordered to take you, and it was my facility you stayed in all of those months...alone." The man was actually taking pleasure in this.

As Leonard sunk into his chair, Jim stood shouting at the admirals for retribution.

"Captain Kirk!" Barnett yelled. "You are here as a courtesy! We'll have you removed if you cannot be civil."

Leonard held his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth, wondering if Starfleet was doomed to betray them all. The two sets of hands on his back gave him the courage to demand his answer.

"Why?" he asked, looking Reed straight in the eye.

"What you have to understand, Dr. McCoy," Reed said, "Section 31 isn't headed by one man or woman. We're a clandestine organization with many directives for a reason. We carry out orders that no one else will."

"Orders? Whose orders?" Leonard said, his jaw clenched in anger.

"Why," Reed paused, "the people of the galaxy, of course."

Leonard wasn't expecting that answer, and from the dissent from Carol and Jim, neither had they.

"What you did for Captain Kirk can never be done again," Reed explained. "But you understand that, don't you, Dr. McCoy? Our galaxy is fragile and rife with millions of beliefs and ways of life. You start playing at being a god and that balance quickly shifts. Only you and I know what you did it and how you did it, but even I don't know the intricacies of the final result." His stare was piercing, waiting for Leonard to comprehend what he said. Somehow the bastard had figured out he used protomatter, but if Reed was the best at what he did, it wouldn't have been difficult to trace Leonard's actions and the avenues he used to get what he needed to create the serum.

"I can be trusted," Reed said. "I had to be sure about you."

"Sure of what?" Leonard's voice was low and deep.

"That you wouldn't break."

His breaths came short and quick. He recognized the signs of a panic attack, and if Jim hadn't settled his hand on his arm, he might have passed out, never getting the answers he needed.

"Every man has a breaking point," Reed said. "On rare occasions, it's my job to determine what it is. For some it's pain," Reed said, then turned his eyes on Carol. "For others it's a little more difficult to determine." His eyes landed on Jim, and he felt Jim's hand tremble in anger as the two locked in a silent battle of wills. "I knew you were the kind of man who wouldn't respond to pain, Dr. McCoy. For all your posturing, you're a man who needs people. Isolation—extreme isolation—was the key to unlocking you."

Leonard slowly stood, gritting his teeth. "You mean to tell me, all of that, all of that suffering you put me through was to test my goddamn character!"

"Yes." Reed blinked, his face set like stone. "We had to be sure. What if an enemy force captured you, or you wanted the serum for your own personal gain? For me, and my directive, it was never about the formula. It was about _you_ , Dr. McCoy."

"And if I had given it to you?" Leonard asked.

"We wouldn't be having this conversation."

"'Cause I'd be dead?" Leonard rolled his eyes.

Reed shrugged. "Or you'd still be in that cell."

Leonard paled at the notion of still being stuck in that isolation tomb. "Why not just kill me?" Leonard asked, feeling Jim twitch beside him.

"A brilliant mind like yours? Such a waste." Reed gave him a crooked grin, cold and calculating. "We may need you, yet."

"You son-of-a bitch!" he yelled, and Jim and Carol moved to restrain him.

"Dr. McCoy," Barnett warned.

Leonard shrugged off the hands on him, straightening his uniform, before sitting in his chair. Reed was untouchable, Leonard realized. The fleet admiral sat beside Reed, unaffected by his confessions, and none of it would matter.

"And what of Axius V?" Leonard asked.

"That was an unfortunate circumstance."

"An unfortunate circumstance," Leonard mocked. He looked to Morrow and Barnett. "Thousands died, and you're going to let this asshole get away with it."

"Like I said," Reed said, "Section 31 is not run by one person. Not everyone shares the same directives."

"Gee, where have I heard that before?" Leonard asked. "Is that your motto? Marcus and Cartwright touted the same thing."

"Axius V was an opportunity," Reed said. "I needed to break you. Others did not agree with my methods, and wanted to take a more aggressive approach. If it wasn't for the tenacity of Dr. Marcus and Captain Kirk, it might have turned out differently. You surprised me, Dr. McCoy, and I'm not often surprised. You convinced me you could be trusted. I was satisfied that you wouldn't break under such extreme measures. I would have returned you to Earth eventually—a matter of days, in fact."

Leonard didn't know if that reveal of information made it better or worse.

"My motivations were pure, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard scoffed.

"Others' in my organization were not. They wanted the serum no matter the cost, but like I said, that wasn't my directive. I conceded to one final test when I shouldn't have, and that is the failure I accept. It's why you were placed on Axius V to aid in the cure. Your father's death was not by my hand," Reed said, and Leonard heard the regret in his voice. "He was Cartwright's tool, and never part of my stratagem."

Leonard's head was back in his hands, mumbling curses. He felt the solid weight of Jim's hand on the back of his neck, but even the warmth of it couldn't stop the cold seeping through him. He couldn't stop trembling.

"You think you're protecting the galaxy?" Jim said, speaking up. "Who's playing god, now? Who do you answer to?"

"James—" Morrow said in warning.

"As much as the three of you want to dismantle our organization," Reed said, unswayed by Jim's accusations. "It cannot, and will not, be done. We'll always be needed in some capacity, and will continue to operate despite your efforts. You may be the ambassadors of the Federation, but we are the silent soldiers."

Reed stood, straightening his uniform, giving Leonard one last solemn look before leaving the room without a second glance.

"That's it?" Jim asked, standing to lean over the table. "He gets to walk away?"

"Yes, Captain Kirk, he does," Admiral Morrow said, and the way he said it meant it was final. This discussion would never be mentioned again, and there would be no record of it.

"This man was tortured at the hands of your man! Is that what Starfleet is now?"

 _It was bullshit,_ Leonard wanted to yell. This was meant to be an apology or a confession of sorts, but it did nothing to assuage him, if anything it made him sick with the knowledge that his own goddamn people had done it to him.

"Did you know?" Leonard asked, seeking out Morrow and Barnett. "Did you know what had happened to me? What was happening on Axius V?"

"No," Barnett said, and Leonard had to believe him because the alternative was too much to bear. "We didn't know about any of it."

"We don't ask questions," Morrow said.

"Well, maybe someone should!" Carol found her voice, and it was surprising how sharp and resilient it was.

There was a knock from outside, and the lieutenant from earlier popped her head through the doors. "Excuse me, sirs—Admirals, it's time. The proceedings are scheduled to begin."

Cartwright and Liu were the scapegoats—guilty scapegoats albeit—but Reed would go unpunished, and there was nothing to do to change it unless he wanted to give this up. He'd glimpsed a life without Starfleet and his friends, and most importantly Jim, he couldn't go back to life on the farm without his father. If he wanted to continue the life he was slowly gaining back, he had to accept the things he'd learned today and learn to live with them.

"Jim," Leonard said, reaching for his hand, "I have to get out of here."

The double doors opened, and his friends streamed in to witness the sentencing, but Leonard couldn't stomach it. He no longer felt compelled to sit across from Cartwright and Liu and look them in the eye, knowing what he did now. Their punishment no longer mattered.

He tried to rise, but his legs wouldn't cooperate.

"I got you, Bones." Jim helped him to his feet, directing him to an exit. He could hear the concerns of the others behind them, asking about his welfare, but he kept his head down, letting Carol answer for them.

"We just need some air," she said. "It was warm in here. We'll be back," she promised even if it was a lie.

They pushed through the exit, and into the empty corridor. Jim led him to a chair, pushing Leonard's head between his knees. "It's okay, Bones," he said again. "We got this."

What Leonard wanted to do was scream until his voice gave out. He wanted to punch something, rage against the dying light, but his therapist had been right. He hadn't even begun to process what had happened to him, and now that he knew the truth, he wasn't sure he ever would.

Soft feminine hands were on his back, whispering apologies and asking for forgiveness.

"If I never found out you were on Axius V," Carol said, "your father—"

"Don't, Carol," Jim said what Leonard couldn't. "None of this is your fault."

"He's quite right," a voice said to his left, one that would plague him for life. "It was your message that alerted Cartwright to your whereabouts. Your father would be alive if you hadn't sent it."

"You bastard!" Jim launched himself at Reed, but Leonard held him back, grabbing him by the shoulders, and holding on to him tight. Jim struggled to break free of Leonard's grasp, but Leonard wasn't about to let Jim strike an admiral on his behalf, even if the asshole deserved it. When Jim stopped fighting, Leonard noticed the figure behind Reed—a foot shorter, and easy to miss except for the bold, bright green jacket in stark contrast to the white hallway.

"You're with him?" Leonard asked Samuel Cogley Jr., the man who had claimed to be his legal counsel when all of this started, and not to mention Jim's friend. "It was all a setup, right from the beginning?" Leonard asked, looking from Jim to Cogley.

"Sam?" Jim asked, relaxing in Leonard's hold. "What the hell? You're S.I.?"

"Luck was on our side when Kirk reached out to Agent Cogley," Reed said with the hint of a smile.

"I am sorry, James," Cogley said, "but we all have our duty."

"We're everywhere," Reed said. "You cannot take us down. We serve a purpose."

"And what purpose did my father serve, you bastards!"

"I am sorry about your father," Reed said, but it was far from an apology. Cogley at least had the decency to seem remorseful.

"Don't," Leonard said through gritted teeth. "Don't you dare."

"He was a good man."

Leonard's rage was about to boil over to match Jim's, but the mention of his father steadied his breath. He let go of Jim, but leaned against his shoulder to anchor himself. Leonard felt a calm wash over him, thinking of the kind of man his father wanted him to be.

"With all due respect, Admiral Reed, I just got my rank and license back, so I'm not stupid enough to hit an admiral, but I'm plenty angry that I might if you keep provoking me. I suggest you walk away. You owe me that much, you asshole."

With a smirk on his lips, Reed tilted his head at Cogley, silently speaking words the three of them would never understand, which only angered them more.

"Maybe I'm stupid, then," Carol said before winding her arm back, and throwing everything she had into slamming her fist into Reed's apathetic face.

It must have hurt like the devil himself struck Reed. He was a big man, over a foot taller than Carol, so he didn't go down, but he stumbled back into Cogley in surprise. Leonard wanted to kiss Carol, wanted to hit the man himself, wanted to hit Cogley who, if he wasn't mistaken, had a grin on his face as he helped Reed compose himself.

"Believe it or not," Reed said, rubbing his jaw, and the bruise that was already forming, "we're the good guys."

"Yeah, and Khan thought the same thing," Jim said, stepping in front of Carol, shielding her from potential retribution.

Reed's face was back to stone, but Leonard saw the twitch in his eye at the mention of Khan. They had rattled Reed, at least somewhat, and that was a victory.

"James," Cogley said, "I do wish this reunion was under better circumstances." He nodded his goodbye, and there was regret in his eyes as he walked away, but not enough for them to care. When Reed and Cogley were no longer in sight, Leonard lifted Carol up, swinging her around, then placed that kiss on her cheek.

"Wow! Some right hook," Jim said.

"Any chance you taught Christine that one? Should I be worried?" Leonard asked while looking at her hand and the swelling that had started. She winced when he pressed gently. "Come on, slugger, let's get you some ice."

"And some whiskey," Jim added.

"And some whiskey," Leonard echoed. "I think we'll need a lot of it before this day is through."

 


	28. =/28\=

They never found the whiskey, but managed some ice for Carol's bruised hand before they were called back to the tribunal room. The sentencing of Cartwright and Liu was quick and absolute. Knowing they would spend the rest of their lives on a maximum penitentiary planet was the only saving grace to this whole clusterfuck of a day. Leonard woke this morning hoping for justice and somewhat happy endings so they could put all of this behind them, but the day wasn't faring that way. It felt like their luck had run dry.

"Captain James Tiberius Kirk, please come forward," Fleet Admiral Morrow said, indicating the podium in front of the twelve admirals. Jim and Leonard, along with Carol and the rest of the bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ , were seated in the first two rows of the auditorium. Their presence, the eight of them, was usually larger than life, but sitting in the empty room facing the twelve admirals with no nonsense smiles, it felt like they were meager specks of dust in the expanse of the universe.

He watched Jim rise with grace, moving with confidence toward the podium to face the admiral's and their imposing eyes.

"I have a long list of charges in front of me, Captain Kirk, which seems to grow every time you step foot on a starship," Morrow said, and Leonard was wary of the tone of his voice. "You have a problem with authority," Morrow continued. "You think you're above the directives of the Starfleet code. And you stole a Federation ship."

" _My_ ship," Jim said.

"And therein lies the problem, doesn't it?" Morrow pressed his lips together, daring Jim to speak. "The USS Starship _Enterprise_ doesn't belong to you any more than that ragtag crew does. The ship serves Starfleet and the Federation, as do the people behind you."

"Sir," Jim said, projecting us much benevolence as he could. They were in trouble here, and from the bead of sweat at Jim's temples, he knew it, too. "May I speak freely?"

Morrow nodded, crossing his arms.

"I stole my ship," Jim admitted with a truthfulness the other admirals were surprised by. "I coerced my crew to help me. I can be pretty persuasive, so don't punish them. I'm to blame for my actions, and only me." Jim was throwing his own Hail Mary, hoping to lessen the blowback he had feared. "But the underlying circumstances of my actions only benefited the Federation. If we hadn't acted when we did, how we did, well, sir, I don't want to think about the damage that might have been done, and the lives potentially lost. The risk was worth it."

"You got lucky, James."

"I thought Starfleet didn't believe in luck?" Jim said, then added the ‘Sir' when Morrow narrowed his eyes, compounding the crease between them. Jim shifted on his feet, placing his hands behind his back. If Leonard could have stood with him, he would have, as would the rest of the crew sitting beside him. They were in this together, and when Leonard looked over to Spock, even the Vulcan seemed worried—as much as he could evoke emotion. He caught Leonard's eye, and raised his eyebrow in return. Their fates were tied in this very room, waiting for the outcome of their futures.

"I do not deny the efforts put forth by the _Enterprise_ , her captain and her crew," Morrow said. "Starfleet thanks you for your service in a time of peril, but there will be no recognition beyond this room. It is with that in mind, and with our gratitude, we are reinstating you, James T. Kirk, as Captain of the USS Starship _Enterprise_. The rechristening ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow. We'll make it official and have you do the honors."

The happy murmurs around the room broke the tension, and Leonard's shoulders relaxed as a smile crept up his face. The lucky bastard was goddamn lucky, he thought, looking at Carol who beamed back at him. But when Leonard turned his attention to the front of the room, his jubilation was short-lived. The admirals did not rejoice with them, they weren't even smiling, and Leonard realized his world was about to be turned on its side again.

"This reinstatement comes with some caveats," Morrow said, sitting back in his chair. "The truth is, the crew of the _Enterprise_ is too codependent of each other." He deferred to Barnett who looked about as happy as Leonard's gut felt having to be the one to deliver the news.

Barnett took a deep breath, clasping his hands together. "We're transferring members of your crew, Captain Kirk." The gasps in the room mirrored Leonard's own. They all knew exactly who would be on their list. "Your First Officer, Commander Spock, will serve aboard the science vessel, the USS _Galileo_."

"No," Jim said, his eyes never leaving Barnett's face.

"Your Chief Engineer, Lt. Commander Montgomery Scott, will be transferred to the USS _Bradbury_."

"No," Jim said again, but this time with more fire behind it.

"Officially, your Chief Medical Officer was never re-assigned," Barnett said, then cleared his throat. "We will have a replacement for you once we've vetted possible candidates. Lt. Commander Leonard McCoy will be stationed on Earth at Starfleet Medical as head of neurosurgery."

"No!" Jim said. "I won't allow it."

"Captain, these are your orders. This isn't a democracy for you and only you. You will respect the chain of command," Barnett said.

"This is the same mess that got us here in the first place," Jim said, gripping the podium, his white knuckles visible from where Leonard sat.

"Yes, it is," Barnett said, "And we're addressing it now before it goes beyond our control. Did you think there wouldn't be repercussions from your defiance? There's a problem with you and your crew aboard that starship. You're reckless, take too many chances, and frankly, there's a level of dependency there we're not comfortable with. You've lost this one, son."

Everything Barnett said was the truth. They couldn't deny it, but Jim was just getting started. They were backing him into a corner, and he was going to come out swinging. If Leonard listened hard enough, he might have heard an imaginary bell ringing for the next round. As soon as Jim started speaking, the hairs on Leonard's arm rose.

"Sir, with all due respect," Jim said, and Leonard fought hard to hide his smile. "I understand not everyone can accept what we have, or what we've built aboard the _Enterprise_ , but you see," Jim shifted again, raising his chin as he placed his hands behind his back, "we are the best the Federation has. We are the best. It's as simple as that. And everyone in this room," he swept his arm in front of him, "knows it whether they care to admit it or not. We are the future. Right here," he said, then pointed to the people behind him. "My crew _are_ my family, and there is nothing," Jim said, voice raised, " _nothing_ I wouldn't do for my family. They are the best at what they do, and the best chance the Federation has of restoring the discord across the galaxy." He paused there, making sure to meet every one of the admirals in the eye.

"Trust in the Federation is gone," he said. "You tried to contain this, but rumors spread quicker than the truth. What Section 31, and by extension Starfleet, has done was reprehensible. There is no coming back from that unless you task the best to rectify it. We are the best. And the reason why we're the best isn't because we are codependent of each other," he scoffed, shaking his head, "that implies a negative connotation, and frankly it's the wrong word. What you really want to use is loyal. The crew of the _Enterprise_ is _loyal_ to each other. We keep each other in check, and there isn't one of my crew that wouldn't lay down their lives for each other, and for the beliefs of Starfleet and the Federation."

"Captain Kirk," Barnett warned, but Jim kept talking.

"Give me the best crew, give me the best ship, and I'll give you the best chance the Federation has of restoring balance in this galaxy. You _owe_ me that. You owe all of them that, and most importantly you owe Dr. McCoy." He leveled his eyes with Morrow's, and it was fierce enough Morrow cowed under it, looking to his hands resting on the bench. Leonard, eyes wide, held his breath along with everyone else. The room was silent, waiting for the backlash from Jim's impassioned speech.

"Five years," Jim said, his voice cracking from the strain of the volume. "That's all I'm asking. Five years for us to prove to you we are it. Then, after that, if we haven't made a difference, we'll go where you need us to go."

=/\=

Leonard stood at the bedroom window, watching the city lights below with a drink in hand. They returned to Jim's apartment after the long day and dinner with the crew. It was supposed to be a celebratory dinner even though none of them felt like celebrating, but now it was just the two of them, mulling over the day's events.

"Hey," Jim said, coming out of the bathroom, freshly showered in nothing but a towel.

"Feel better?" Leonard asked, admiring Jim's reflection in the window.

"Immensely." Jim pulled a pair of boxers out of a drawer, throwing them on the bed. "One hell of a day."

"It sure was."

He came up behind Leonard, wrapping his arms around him with a sigh. He was still damp from the shower, but Leonard didn't mind. He needed one as well, but for now he was content to stay where he was.

It was a sobering day—bittersweet to say the least. After long hours of negotiations, Starfleet Command acquiesced, giving Jim his ship and the crew of his choice. The decision came with a cost, a probation of sorts, with a strict chain of command, and no margin for errors or second chances. They got their five-year mission, which Leonard couldn't deny his apprehension, but it felt right and just they would all be together again.

"Are you upset no one will know what happened?" Jim asked, running his hand up Leonard's stomach. "You didn't get to tell your story."

"I don't give a flying fig about my story, Jim. The people who matter already know."

"Flying fig?" He felt Jim's smile as he kissed his neck. "That's new."

Leonard chuckled, tilting his head back to rest on Jim's shoulder. "They were right, you know?"

"About what?"

"If the truth got out, if the rest of the Federation knew what happened to Axius V and the embargo put in place by S.I., it would destroy everything. Starfleet is still needed, maybe not in the capacity some want, but it's still needed out there. There are good people who serve who aren't tainted by S.I."

"You really want to work for these bastards knowing what they did to you? What they can do to any of us?"

"I made a promise, Jim. We both did. One I intend to keep." He turned to face Jim. "We're just getting started in our journey. We'll make Starfleet what it's supposed to be, even if it takes our lives to do it."

"Okay, Bones," Jim said, moving his hands to Leonard's hips. "It _was_ a sweet job offer, though." He kissed Leonard's neck. "Head of neurosurgery? Feet firmly on Earth?"

"It was very sweet," Leonard agreed, leaning into him. "They must be feeling guilty about something."

"You're not tempted by it?" Jim pushed against him.

"Are you staying on Earth?" Leonard asked, taking a step toward the bed.

"But, Bones..."

"We tried that separation thing," Leonard said, taking another step. "It doesn't work for us. Where you go, I go."

"If you wanted to stay on Earth..."

"Shut up, Jim," Leonard said pushing at his chest until Jim toppled on to the bed. "We just got everything and everyone back, and you want to give it up already?"

"I spent a year going out of my mind worrying about you, Bones. I'd do anything you wanted."

"I know you would," Leonard said, climbing on top of Jim. He hovered over Jim with only his clothes and Jim's towel between them. He reached for Jim's towel. "That was a mighty fine speech you gave them, even if it wasn't exactly true."

"Which part?" Jim lifted up his hips, biting his lip.

"We're loyal, that part's true. But you're wrong about one thing." He ripped Jim's towel away, leaving him naked underneath him.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Jim's eye roll was typical.

"Well, I'm sure as hell codependent of you," he said, kissing Jim. "I've decided I wouldn't survive too long without you."

"What are you talking about, Bones? You survived the better part of a year."

"But that was before I had you, before I had this." He reached between Jim's legs, laughing as he grabbed a handful of his cock, gently squeezing it.

"So," Jim grinned, "what you're saying is you're codependent of my cock."

Leonard's fingers tweaked a little harder than they should have by the way Jim let out a yelp, but Jim was smiling, and that was all Leonard needed. He settled himself between Jim's legs, staring down into his bright blue and hopeful eyes. "Your cock is an added bonus to all this, but what I'm trying to say, as not so eloquently as I can..." He felt his cheeks warming, and by extension the rest of his body flush against Jim's. He wanted a serious conversation without the bravado between them, but it wasn't what they were about. He cleared his throat, dropping his voice a few levels, whispering while trying to keep his focus on Jim's eyes and not his mouth. "Is that I'm in this for the long haul, Jim, codependency and all."

He closed his eyes as Jim flipped them over. Their bodies were perfectly aligned, even though he was fully clothed and Jim was naked. When he opened his eyes, Jim was looking down at him, serious but with a hint of humor still present.

"And here I thought you were a man of gestures, not words." He chuckled. "You want words, Bones? I'll quote sonnets. You want to hear music? I'll hire an orchestra and sing you love songs." Jim traced the creases in Leonard's forehead, smoothing them out gently. "You and I both know that's not what we do."

No, it wasn't what they did. They stared down death and defied it, stole starships, and risked careers and lives for each other. They didn't need anything else.

"I think I need to get naked," Leonard said.

"I think that's a good idea."

Leonard stripped in record time. He didn't bother with any fanfare, he just wanted to feel Jim against him. Jim pulled him down, and tried to lead the way, but Leonard placed his hand on Jim's chest. "Not this time, Jim." He shook his head, pushing Jim back onto the pillows. "It's my turn."

Leonard slid his hand down the length of Jim's body, taking his time to trace the muscles, connecting the long, lean lines. Leonard's kisses turned desperate, not enough to leave marks—Jim had a speech to give tomorrow—but enough to elicit sounds from Jim that meant promises of a future together. Jim's body came alive under his fingertips, letting Leonard do what he wanted with it, and he wanted all of it.

He tongued Jim's nipple, and then the other. Jim's pleas were loud and desperate, twisting Leonard up inside. "Soon," Leonard promised, sliding his hand up Jim's thigh to find his cock, thick and flushed, and when Leonard brushed his thumb over the tip, Jim jerked up, moaning into Leonard's mouth. He needed to be inside of Jim, needed to feel him come apart because of him. His speech today had ignited that spark inside of him and he needed to have Jim. "I'm going to fuck you, Jim," Leonard said, but Jim was already yielding, spreading his legs for Leonard. "I'm going to make up for the years you tortured me, made me wait for you." He closed his mouth over Jim's cock, tasting him, holding back his own moan as he swallowed him, gripping Jim's hips while he licked and sucked.

"Bones," Jim begged, his knees bending. "Please."

Leonard's hands trembled as he reached for the bottle where Jim had last left it. Up until now, Jim had led the way in bed, but not tonight. Leonard would take what he needed.

"I'm going to make you forget everyone else who had you before me," Leonard said, kissing Jim's mouth until they both needed to breathe. He made a tentative touch over Jim's entrance, rubbing it with his thumb, teasing Jim until he bucked against his fingertips. He teased one last circle around Jim's hole, then he slowly pressed the tip of his finger inside of him. Jim arched in a silent gasp, making Leonard want to push in further.

"I never knew it would be like this," Leonard said, then began moving his finger in and out of Jim's body, working him open while he watched Jim fall apart with every stroke. "You're beautiful, Jim," he said, sliding another finger in, and after a time he added a third, pushing in as deep as he could until Jim made sounds that had Leonard's cock leaking. He was close to pulling his fingers out, when he rubbed up against the spot he was looking for, and Jim's pleas came fast and needy.

"Yes," he hissed. "Please, Bones."

Leonard pressed his fingers in again, making Jim gasp as his hips came off the bed. He teased Jim with his fingers, thrusting in and out as Leonard slicked up his cock. He breathed every part of Jim in while Jim gave himself to Leonard. Everything they'd gone through was for this moment. Leonard had been close to never having this, and the hurt Reed caused lessened a little knowing they didn't take this away. This magnificent bastard was the person Leonard was meant to spend his life with.

He removed his fingers, and expecting Jim's whine, he was ready with his cock lined up at Jim's entrance the moment his fingers were free. He pushed his way inside, seating himself all the way in with one solid thrust, then pulled out again. Jim tried to push his hips up, but Leonard held him still. "Easy, Jim," he said. "My turn, remember?"

"Bones," Jim protested. "Fuck me."

He worked the head of his cock in and out, in slow, short strokes, relishing in the tight, hot feel of Jim. He slid in as slowly as he could before his breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest. It took Leonard a moment to adjust to the feeling of finally being inside of him. He kissed Jim, losing himself until Jim trembled underneath him. "I'm going to fuck you, Jim," he said, rocking his hips. "It'll be hard and fast, and I won't be able to stop." He grabbed onto Jim's hips, feeling the power behind his thrusts. It wasn't too rough, just a bit more reckless than Leonard was used to. He didn't want to stop though, and from the look on Jim's face, and the way he arched up to meet Leonard, he didn't want him to either.

Jim's eyes were dark, the bright blue barely visible next to the ring of black. "Bones," he said, meeting Leonard's eyes, and he knew what was on the tip of Jim's tongue. It was written there with every shift of their bodies. Leonard didn't want to hear it, not like this. It wasn't their way, and whatever was written on Leonard's face must have said so. Leonard shifted his hips, angling them down as Jim hooked his legs around Leonard's waist, and whatever Jim was about to say, got lost when Jim came undone. He drove into Jim, shorter, harder, and with every stroke, he hit Jim exactly where he wanted.

"Fuck, Jim," Leonard gasped. "I can't...I need you to..." He took hold of Jim's cock, matching his hand to his thrusts until Jim shouted in a harsh and strangled cry which sent them both tumbling over the edge until they collapsed in a pile of limbs.

When he finally eased out of Jim, he kissed his collarbone, then lay beside him, wrapping his arms around him. "We don't need words, Jim."

 


	29. =/29\=

They forgot to shut the blinds before they went to bed. Leonard regretted it now as he watched the dawn break, and the sunlight chase the shadows out of the bedroom. He knew Jim was awake beside him, he had been for some time. Neither of them slept well, not when yesterday's events weighed heavily on them.

"You nervous?" Leonard asked, breaking the silence of the morning.

Jim took a deep breath, then opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "No," he said. "Not really. After the coals they raked us over yesterday, this will be easy."

"Showboat," Leonard said, rolling to face him.

"Five-year mission, Bones."

"God, help me.

"Aren't you the least bit excited? This is what we've been waiting for."

"No, Jim. You might've been waiting for it, I certainly wasn't."

"Lighten up. At least act like you're excited."

"Believe me, this is me excited." He nudged his cock into Jim's hip, making him laugh.

"Bones," Jim said, his face growing serious.

"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good."

"Would you mind if I ran my speech by you?" Jim was still looking at the ceiling, and something about his voice had Leonard uneasy.

"Sure," Leonard said, but there was a questioning tone that Jim didn't miss.

"It's just, I should've asked you, but I didn't know how."

"What, Jim?" Leonard watched him carefully. "What is it?"

"I wanted you to hear it before we got up there in front of all those people. I don't want you to be surprised."

"Jim, you're scaring me, here."

"I borrowed some of the things your dad said to us...before he died."

He had braced for bad news, but he hadn't braced for this. Leonard's throat constricted, and he felt the blood drain from his face. When Jim looked his way he started apologizing.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I should've asked. I won't—"

"Jim," Leonard said, putting his hand over Jim's mouth. "You did surprise me, but it's a good one. I'm okay with it, more than okay. You just got me in the ticker." He patted his chest, emphasizing what he was trying to say. He kissed Jim, despite their morning breath, then rested on his elbow so he could watch Jim since he decided to deliver his speech while lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Jim began from the beginning, addressing the imaginary crowd and honored guests, and Leonard couldn't take his eyes off the man who had risked everything for him. As Jim spoke, Leonard was rife with melancholy, thinking about the past year, and what they had all been through. He still didn't know the extent of what his friends had sacrificed for him. He heard pieces of the puzzle, but it wasn't complete, and perhaps it never would be. Jim didn't like to talk about it, instead he would kiss Leonard, tell him it was in the past and with their whole lives ahead of them, he wanted to keep looking to the future.

Leonard could accept that, there were things he never wanted Jim to know, what he went through, about his darkest days and thoughts, and how he'd given up so many times. Jim didn't need to know about voices raw from screaming, and bloodied knuckles from punching walls, he had enough guilt without adding to it. Maybe someday, when they were old and had lived lives their fathers would be proud of, but by then, they would have new and more bloodcurdling stories to reminisce over.

Jim cleared his throat pausing with his hand hovering in the air above him. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but Leonard saw the red creeping up his chest, rising to his neck.

"There will always be those who mean to do us harm. To stop them we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves," Jim said, and Leonard's heart quickened. "Our first instinct is to seek revenge when those we love are taken from us. But that's not who we are."

Leonard recognized his father's words, and he understood why Jim wanted him to hear them first. The words hit him hard, both of them, and it took him back to the last hours with his father. David saw their future if they headed down that path of vengeance, and he wanted better for the both of them. Leonard never sought revenge for his father, he sought justice, and he hoped to hell his father was pleased.

"We are here today to rechristen the USS _Enterprise_ ," Jim continued, powering through his emotions, "and to honor those who lost their lives nearly one year ago."

The crowd would think about the lives lost when Khan attacked the city, but Leonard thought of Axius V, and the lives that were sacrificed because of him. They would forever be with him, but they would push him forward, make him rise every morning to work toward a galaxy built on peace and solidarity. That was their new mission, and the _Enterprise_ would help them achieve it.

"When Christopher Pike first gave me his ship he had me recite the Captain's Oath," Jim said, finally turning toward Leonard and finding his eyes, "words I didn't appreciate at the time. Now, I see them as a call for us to remember, who we once were, and who we must be again."

Jim knew what that speech meant to Leonard, and what it represented, and only a few people in the crowd would know as well. Jim wrote it for Leonard, in memory of a man who wanted change, and had every hope in them to make it happen. Jim disguised it enough to bring an aspiring tone to the event, but it was a message to Starfleet Command that the crew of the _Enterprise_ was just getting started. Jim was a clever bastard. The corner of Jim's mouth was turned up, somewhat cocky.

"And those words?" Leonard asked, giving him a smile of his own.

Jim rolled on top of him, pressing his cock next to Leonard's. "Space! The final frontier—"

"All right, fly-boy," Leonard said, leaning up to kiss him. It was long and deep, and told Jim exactly what he thought of his speech. "That pretty mouth of yours makes some impressive speeches."

"That's not all it's good for," Jim said, licking his lips to emphasize his meaning.

"I'm not familiar with these other talents your mouth has to offer."

"No?" Jim pressed his lips to Leonard's throat, then whispered in his ear. "I'm extremely talented."

"I'll bet you are," Leonard breathed out as Jim moved his mouth to Leonard's chest. He closed his eyes against the light, grasping at the sheets as Jim made his way further down, biting and licking as he went. "Fuck, Jim," he growled, dropping his head on the pillow. His cock was already hard and flush against his stomach, and Jim was taking his time getting to the main event. Leonard was not above begging.

"You want to take that talented mouth somewhere a little more appreciative?" Leonard said, tilting his hips up.

Jim chuckled, circling his tongue along Leonard's hipbone, then licked along the junction of Leonard's thigh. Leonard moaned long and loud, almost a little desperate. "Jim..."

"Should I take this slow?" Jim asked, and Leonard heard the grin without seeing it.

"Fuck, no."

And then Jim licked at the tip of his cock, swirling his tongue around the head before Leonard was bathed in wet heat. He swallowed all of him, his tongue flat against the underside of his cock. "Christ, Jim!" He put his hands on Jim's head, trying not to push harder, ringing his fingers through his hair. He dragged a hand over Jim's cheek, along his jaw to the corner of his lips where his cock moved in and out of his perfect mouth.

Jim looked up at him, his eyes dark with want, and Leonard was still amazed that Jim was his, that he gave himself so freely to him. Jim moaned around his cock, his tongue doing wicked things to him, and Leonard had to stop himself from fucking Jim's mouth. He was close, and Jim sensed it. He pulled away until only the tip of his tongue pressed against the head of Leonard's cock.

A sharp whine came out of Leonard's mouth as he shoved his hips toward Jim's mouth.

"Bones," Jim said. Then his mouth was on Leonard's, and he tasted himself on Jim's tongue. Warm, rough hands gripped him, lining Jim's cock against his. Jim stroked their lengths in his fist, hard and fast while whispering in his ear. "Like this," he said. "Come on, Bones, that's it. Together." His low, deep voice and the rush of his hand was all Leonard needed. Jim kissed him as they came, their cocks jerking in Jim's hand, and both of them shuddered, gasping between breaths.

They lay for some time until the shower called to them, and the day's schedule encroached on their solitude. While Leonard stood under the stream of the hot water, his mind drifted to the farm where he'd once called home. They had closed it up last week, Jim had helped, and it would always be a place where they could escape to, but it was no longer Leonard's home. He didn't have a home any more, he had a person, and wherever Jim went, Leonard would always find peace with him.

"Hey," Jim said, placing his hands on Leonard's cheeks, the water streaming down their faces. "Where'd you go?"

Leonard could only give him a weak smile.

"He'd be proud of you, Bones," he said, leaning in and kissing him softly. "You did it your way. You found the cure the way he wanted you to."

"But not in time."

"No," Jim said, turning off the water. "Not in time, but you still saved thousands. These next five years are for David."

"I'll try and remember that."

"And I'll remind you."

 

=/\=

 

"Just one morning," Leonard mumbled into the pillow. "One morning where you're not jumping out of bed as soon as you open your eyes. That's all I ask." He buried his head under the pillow when Jim ordered the lights on in the cabin.

"Get up, Bones," Jim said, moving around the room, opening drawers and the closet doors.

"Do I need to remind you that I came to bed mere hours ago?"

"You did?" Jim slammed a drawer shut, making Leonard groan.

"Thanks for noticing. Guess this honeymoon period is over."

"Thought M'Benga was on rotation."

"Geoff's got the Thelusian flu. You'd know that if you read my reports."

"What about Chapel?"

"Seriously, Jim." Leonard rolled over blinking at the light, then his eyes landed on Jim. "You really don't read them, do you?"

"The important stuff." Jim shrugged, slipping into his pants.

"Chapel's on leave. She met Lissan on Meezan IV for that medical conference. We're scheduled to rendezvous there sometime next week."

"Huh," Jim said, throwing his black shirt on. "I think I knew that."

"How are you the captain?"

"I have good people."

"You're lucky we like our captain." Leonard rolled onto his back grunting at the stiffness in his muscles.

"Well, as your captain, I'm telling you to get up. You need a shower."

Leonard sniffed his armpit. "I do, don't I?"

"Yes. You do." Jim was dressed and slipping on his black socks, while Leonard managed to put two bare feet on the floor.

"Can't you just come back to bed for a few minutes?" Leonard yawned, stretching his arms. "I'll even make it worth it."

"As much as that sounds tempting—apart from your odor—Sulu's got the helm, and he's getting too much of a taste for it. I need to get to the bridge."

"Captain Sulu does have a good ring to it. Bet he'd let me sleep in."

"Bones…" Jim warned. "Get up. I'm heading to deck seven. Carol found some strange energy readings coming from an ionized hydrogen cloud and wants me to check it out."

"I hear you talking, but I'm not really listening," Leonard said, yawning again.

"I expect you on the bridge at 0700 hours. That's thirty minutes from now."

"Yes, sir," Leonard said with a mock salute and a roll of his eyes.

_Captain to the bridge._

Jim shoved his foot in his boot, then pressed the comm. "What is it, Uhura?"

 _Sir, you're going to want to come up here, and Dr. McCoy as well,_ Uhura said over the comm.

"Sulu, report."

 _It's Mudd, Captain,_ Sulu said. _He's hailing us from a class four freighter. He wants to speak to you and Dr. McCoy._

"Acknowledged." Jim sighed, squeezing his temples.

"All right, then," Leonard said, laughing behind his hand as he tried to maneuver around Jim. "I'm going to take that shower now."

"Stop right there." Jim clenched his jaw, visibly counting to ten. "This is the third time in two months, Bones. He's not coming aboard my ship! I don't care what kind of history you have with him. Last time that kid, Mungus, purposefully smuggled those tribbles on board. It took Scotty a week to beam them all out." Jim shoved his foot in his other boot. "And how did the man upgrade his ship?"

"He's resourceful," Leonard said, scratching at his belly. "Good business sense, I suppose. And you can't prove it was Mungus."

"Who the hell else would it have been?"

"Jim, calm down. You look like you're going to have a stroke."

"I'm regretting this bargain you made."

"Jim," Leonard, said, clapping Jim's cheeks, kissing him firmly on the mouth. " _'Five years in space. Come on, Bones, it'll be fun.'_ That's what you said. Well, now you're living it."

"Five more years in space with you and Mudd. God help me."

 

 =/THE END\=

(That's my head canon.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! Took me 2 1/2 years (on & off) to write, and it's completely liberating to be done. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and sending me such sweet words of encouragement. I hope it lived up to your expectations. It was a labour of love for Bones and his raw deal in the last film, and been such a good experience writing it. You can find me on my tumblr - mcshipit (I try and stick to the [Mc]Ships of the fandom world...McKirk, McShep, McDanno.  
> Thank you again, you beautiful people.  
> #LiveLongandProsper  
> b


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